#more will be added in the future when needed

[dduane]

Hello Ms. Duane I hope you're doing okay today.

This is a very personal ask and if it's too much and you need to ignore it I totally understand!

I was just wondering how you are managing to stay so strong and positive after what happened.

My partner and I are in our 40s and neither of us are the healthiest people and I am so very afraid of losing him one day. Sometimes, in private, I cry just thinking about it. I can't see a future in which I could go on if he died first.

But you manage to continue even after your terrible loss. You travel and write and continue to experience joys in life. Do you have any thoughts or advice on how to be ready for this future? How to survive the grief?

I hope I am not overstepping my boundaries. I have no one I could talk to about his, and your current strength amazes me.

First of all: thanks for the kind words. They're very, very appreciated.

Secondly: Everything that follows is intensely situational, and everybody else's mileage will inevitably vary. (So what else is new?)

(Adding a cut here, as I'm still ambivalent about how to handle these issues "on main". Warning: contains discussion of pre- and post-bereavement issues, the loss of longtime spouses, mental-health travel, and turning into trees.)

...Anyway. How am I managing?

Frankly, damned if I know.

In my case, I'm really not sure it's attributable to strength, as such. (Though, yeah, one learns some of that over time, if one's not afraid to expose oneself to life. Which, admittedly, is a way bigger ask these days, it seems to me, than it used to be.)

Some of it is mere habit, intertwined with unavoidable responsibility. There are things that my daily life requires me to do that can't be evaded, or not for long: and habit keeps me pushing through those. (And some of them are so fecking mundane. Keeping the online store running, doing the damn dishes, dealing with web issues [right now I'm having a deeply frustrating discussion with Peter's website about under-the-hood memory issues: a discussion that I wish I could just end with a polearm of some kind]...) This is the "This Gets Me So Damn Pissy" side of being a grownup. ...With the inevitable side question: when the hell did I grow up? Is this it? Because this bit of it is really annoying me right now.

Some of it is sheer bloody-minded stubbornness (with a side of You can't give up on dealing with this. He wouldn't like that. And also, You have to keep on surviving this to the point where you get past the worst of the pain: because you know that point will come if it's just given enough time... and he would not want the last thing he did to have caused you so much pain that you gave up).

...Is any of this making sense? God only knows. Please excuse all unnecessary parentheses.

And also: Some of this is the simple realization that it would not be either desirable or healthy to give up, or set aside, even temporarily, the whole spectrum of individuated, nothing-to-do-with-him things that have made me, and continue to make me, me... some of which were plainly (to my then and continuing delight) what got that guy to marry me in the first place.

Peter had only disapproval for the concept of suttee. But not merely because of that, I refuse to burn myself away on his pyre (or to allow my own carelessness about my physical and/or mental states to let that happen). It would serve no useful purpose, would inevitably cause pain to a lot of other people... and in any case, he would just really not approve.

Admittedly, I'm feeling kinda scorched around the edges right now. But give it time enough, and scorching can heal.

(sighing) Let me back away briefly from that whole set of issues, to look a little at the background. Whenever this subject has come up for discussion between us over the years, P. and I have been of more or less instantaneous agreement that we'd both deeply prefer, when the day and hour rolled around, to be turned simultaneously into trees. 😏 Neither of us was ever wild about the other one surviving alone and having to deal with the partner's loss. Yet—barring the chance of dying together in some natural disaster, or in a train or plane crash or something (which is frankly kind of hard on all the other people on the plane or train)—we knew damn well that eventually, whatever our preferences, that was what was most likely going to happen.

So we talked about it. We made some (as it now turns out, fairly rudimentary) plans. Some of them are turning out to be useful. Some of them are less so (in that some of them depended on assumptions about which of us would be likelier to go first). But the important thing was that we jointly acknowledged that one-of-us-goes-first was the likeliest outcome.

And nothing is served by trying to pretend that it's not likely to happen, or by failing to acknowledge and discuss it with your partner. This is hard to say, and will doubtless be hard to hear. But I promise you that all of this would have been endlessly worse for me (or for him, if I'd gone first) if we hadn't even been willing to get as far as the acknowledgement: which is vital.

One who commits to a real-world, long-term partnership must sooner or later be willing to commit to the difficult truth that it will someday end. Denial doesn't help at all. The physical universe has all kinds of seriously annoying ways to deal with that. (And if this sounds kinda stern, please understand that it's mostly myself I'm being stern with here.) ...But if you're already experiencing distress over the eventual possibility of something at this level of inevitability happening (she said, briefly putting her psych-nurse hat on*), I think you might be wise to consider how to broach the subject with your partner sooner rather than later. If you need professional assistance with this, do what you can to seek it out.

But make some kind of plan for the time when two become one (in the probably least-delightful sense of the phrase). It doesn't have to happen all at once. You don't have to spend hours over the business, or days. Peter and I handled this issue (most recently, and not with an eye to any illness...) over a matter of months, in brief conversations that sometimes lasted only minutes at a time, or even seconds. (Hilariously, it was P. finally getting his senior citizen's unlimited-public-transport pass that triggered us most recently getting into this issue in any depth.) But having done so—even in rudimentary form—each of us could rest a little easier that the other knew where to quickly reach for the already-emplaced "lifesaver," and wouldn't have to be thrashing around in the deep water all alone with no immediate help in sight.

(sighing) ...So. As to feeling joy about things? I suspect I'm a good ways off that yet. Flashes of amusement and happiness (and also of extremely black humor, possibly rather blacker than usual) have been coming and going as usual. But then the "happiness" thing is kind of unavoidable for me, because in this regard I am a very cheap date, and always have been. I mean, anybody who looks at my shitposting here should be able to detect that. :)

Meanwhile, as for travel: There's definitely a therapeutic side to this. Right up until his last day, P. and I had stacks and stacks of plans for places we wanted to go in the short- to long-term: some of them ones we'd been to before, some not. I find (not entirely to my surprise, but with satisfaction that it works) that there's currently some relief available for me in carrying out these plans, even though P's not with me except in "Shoulder Angel" mode. What I mean by this is: me traveling and seeing new and interesting things, and predicting—I like to think with some accuracy, after forty years of observing and interacting with the man—what Peter would generally make of them. So that practice will continue, when I can afford it and can spare the time away from home. (Those who want to contribute to these efforts are cordially invited to go over to the Ko-Fi and drop in whatever they please with the tag "Operation Shoulder Angel," so I know what it's about. And thanks in advance to any who feel inclined to do this.)

Additionally, in terms of the general suggestion some have made, that I should "Get out of the house and go be with your Tribe when you can", at the end of the month it seems I'll be at Archipelacon 2, on an island I didn't even know existed until some weeks back, and had to Google for. That should be interesting! Detailed reports will follow.

As for continuing to write: that won't stop until it's my turn to stop breathing, if I have anything to say about it. Casual writing, like this, is enough of a daily commonplace that it's in no danger, I think, of being interrupted. Meanwhile, I look forward to being able to settle back into actual prose work as soon as possible, as things are kinda backed up at that end. If I have to travel to do that because it's difficult to do at home... well, I've done that before, and often. If I must, I'll do it again. Some of my best writing has happened in holiday flats and hotel rooms.

Anyway: thanks much for the question, which took courage to ask! I honor that. And as for you: hang in there and do what you can for your own situation... though (obviously) at your own speed. I can tell you for sure that action on this issue will help, at least a little, over time, to kill some of the fear... and will help you prepare for the unexpected.

HTH. ❤️

*Even though we didn't wear caps. When I was still practicing, we worked in street clothes. Just as well, as I always looked like a dork in a cap.

[whisperofwonder]

We Don't Need Memories

Miya Atsumu x reader - 1k words

I've had a vision of this in my head for a while. I'm not sure it came out like I wanted, but I'm sharing anyway!

Atsumu has been too quiet in the bedroom for a suspiciously long time. He could be folding laundry or finally organizing his dresser drawers, but something tells you that's not the case. You haven't seen him do either in the month and a half you've been living together. With a sigh, you set your laptop aside and get up to investigate.

In the bedroom, Atsumu's sitting cross-legged on the floor. When he hears you creak open the door, his gaze snaps to you, frozen with one hand inside a familiar shoe box - one that you'd tucked in the back corner of the closet. Some of its contents are already spread out on the floor. So - he's discovered your secret.

"Hi," You say in a small voice, feeling a little bit guilty, even though you have no real reason to be.

"This is yours?" He asks, watching you as you sink down next to him. It's a silly non-question. Who else's would it be?

"Yeah," You admit as you reach for a magazine clipping on the floor. The newest pieces had been on top, so this is from only a few weeks ago, when the Black Jackals had been featured in an article. Under that is the newest team profile booklet, and a newspaper cover page from the Olympics last summer.

"You saved all this?" Atsumu asks, paging slowly through the pamphlet you'd picked up at his first ever Black Jackals game.

"I did," You nod, watching him carefully, trying to gauge his reaction. He's never been one for sentimentality, and you're afraid he'll think all of this is stupid. You've been saving things for quite a while now, because unlike him, sometimes you like to look back at where he's been, see how far he's come. Lately, you've even been thinking, maybe, if it comes to it, your future kids might like to see some of it too.

"How far back does this go?" He asks, digging through until he pulls out a cutout from your high school newspaper, featuring the team right before nationals in his second year. "Ya kept this from high school?" He asks in disbelief, looking intently at the faded photo of the old Inarizaki team. Finally, he looks up at you. "Why?"

You remember being 16, picking out your new boyfriend among his teammates on the front page of the school paper, so handsome in his uniform. You're not quite sure, even now, what had compelled you to actually cut it out and save it, but you're glad that you did. It had lived in the front cover of one of your notebooks for a while, until a few new clippings joined it. You'd finally converted to the shoe box after he joined the Jackals, and you'd cut out an article about him joining the team.

Since then, you've added advertisements he's done, glossy pamphlets from special games he's played in, and every article you've come across that so much as mentions his name. There's a whole chunk of Olympics memorabilia that you'd rubber banded together. Suffice to say, the humble box has grown pretty full over the years.

You shrug before answering his question. "Because I'm proud of you." It's the simplest answer, and it also happens to be the truth. You look down at the banner in the old article. "And maybe you don't need memories, but I like having them."

"Course yer proud of me," He says roughly, gingerly setting the old article back in the box. "Look at all this stuff I did." He pats the top of the pile.

"You don't think it's weird?" You finally ask with a quiet laugh.

"Nah," He says nonchalantly. "If ya wanna hang onto all this stuff, I don't care." He looks back down into the shoe box, perhaps blinking a little more quickly than usual.

"Okay then," You say, matching his tone. Something else in the box catches his eye, and he reaches for it. The two of you spend the next half hour paging through everything.

A few days later, after you've cleared the dinner dishes off the table, he hands you a thick envelope. You peek inside, and see that it's mostly photos. You look at him with a frown.

"I found some more stuff. For the box." He clears his throat. "I thought this stuff belonged in there, too."

"Oh," You carefully pull the bundle out of the envelope, surprised. The photos are glossy without a single fingerprint, almost as though he'd just had them printed. The first one is from after nationals in your third year, and features the two of you with matching wide smiles. You remember the feel of his sweat-slicked cheek pressed against yours. You smile looking down at your past selves. You look so young.

Most of the photos are similar. It's you and him, smiling together before or after his biggest matches. There's even one of you, wearing his Jackal's jersey, cheering in the stands. You have no idea when it was even taken.

Along with the photos, you're surprised to see some familiar scraps of paper. They say things like "I'm proud of you" or "I love you", decorated with cartoony hearts. There are even a few with goofy volleyball doodles you'd made. You've been hiding these silly little notes in his suitcase every time he travels, but you never dreamed he'd save them.

"Tsumu," You look up at him, his name the only word you can form. His expression is almost unbearably fond.

"Ya don't have anything like this in there." He shrugs. "Felt like it was missing something important."

"I didn't know you kept any of this," You say softly, spreading it out on the table in front of you.

He scoffs. "Yer not the only one who can save stuff." Abruptly, he pulls in close, wrapping his arms around you and resting his chin on top of your head. "I love you," He murmurs into your hair.

You smile into his chest. "I love you too."

[thatstormygeek]

I really disliked Idiocracy the first time I saw it. It was so mean-spirited and awful about the wrong things and I couldn't get past that to care what else it might be saying.

For some reason, years later, I agreed to watch it again with some friends. My reluctance meant I missed the beginning - Joe was already in the future by the time I showed up. And it was so much better that time around. It's still the same crude humor, but it's much easier to see that the targets aren't the "idiots" (well, not just the "idiots").

[I guess I should give a spoiler warning here, tho this movie is sooo old]

The people Joe runs into in his bumbling quest are laughably ignorant, yes, but they are just people, too. They ultimately care about the same things Joe and Rita and every one else do; they have been and continue to be failed by their systems.

They don't put Brawndo on their plants because they want the plants to die; they are poisoning their plants because of a corporate ad campaign run amok. They think you give plants Brawndo because they have been told plants thrive on Brawndo because the Brawndo execs wanted to sell more product and their government didn't do its job.

And seeing people who cannot do their jobs without a computer telling them what to think hits VERY different in the era of LLMs/genAI. Not in a "haha, look at this dumbass who can't do the simplest thing!" way (which, if I'm being honest, is more likely the way it was originally meant), but in a "holy shit it's scary how quickly everything devolves when critical thinking is no longer valued" way. Then again, the fact that the medical doctor operates identically to the other professions makes me less confident in my assertion of the original intentions.

More than once in recent months (though not that much more), I have found myself commenting on someone's post saying Trump is our President Camacho. While both are showmen (I guess. I feel like that's giving Trump too much credit. but people insist he is.), Camacho fucking cares about his people. He sees Joe as a resource and immediately puts him to work to save the damn crops. Trump, otoh, hates the very idea of a United States of America and only gives anything approaching a shit for anyone he thinks can enrich himself. Not the same.

*ahem*

Despite what I just said, I wouldn't even consider myself a fan of the movie. I sure as hell wouldn't have imagined I had this much to say about it. But for anyone who would like to watch it for some reason and is (fucking very understandably) put off by the "stupid people breeding" framing, I'd suggest just...skipping? the very beginning (and the very end - they felt the need to revisit the concept to bookend the damn thing). You won't miss anything of value. Though the movie itself is still full of gross-out toilet humor and problematic tropes. But that's what plants crave.

Idiocracy is kind of bad in its messaging because it ends up being kind of implicitly pro-eugenics but even setting that aside its political message is just kind of silly. It's of course understandable why it's become such a core part of US liberal discourse, because it allows them to pretend that like. The only reason the Bad Party is in power is because of some nebulous anti-intellectualism infecting the US. It gives them a good way to externalize the issue. Actually, the reason the Good Party isn't in power is because the electorate is bad and stupid.

Anyway this was brought to you by the fact that I saw mention of a Cracked article that compared Hulk Hogan's appearance at some Republican event to Idiocracy and I felt a sudden wash of nostalgia as I was transported back into the Bush presidency.

[inthedayswhenlandswerefew]

The Keys Of Heaven [Chapter 6: For The Forgiveness Of Sins]

Series summary: Three years ago, Father Aemond Targaryen performed a miracle. Now he is a cardinal, a media sensation, and a frontrunner to be elected pope. You are a nun who has been brought to Vatican City to assist with the papal conclave. But when your paths cross by happenstance, you must both reckon with your decision to join the Catholic Church…and what you want from the future.

Series warnings: Language, sexual content (18+ readers only), references to abuse and violence, volcanoes, bodily injury, death, peril, scheming, pining, some drugs/alcohol/smoking, Catholic trivia you never asked to learn, kangaroos!

Word count: 5.9k

🦘 A very special thanks to my Aussie slang consultant @bearwithegg and also her mum (any mistakes are mine) 🦘

💜 All my writing can be found HERE! 💜

Tagging: @mrs-starkgaryen @chattylurker @lauraneedstochill @ecstaticactus @neithriddle, more in comments! 🥰

🗝️ Let me know if you’d like to be added to the taglist 🗝️

Rhaena keeps trying to have a yarn about the plan for the new fish pond at the convent in Sydney. She’s convincing herself that you’ll be back there together, soon and forever. You are only half-listening as you cast pellets of fish food into the dark gloomy water of the koi pond, metallic scales and skirtlike fins flashing from the depths. They make you think of coins, comets, blades, keys.

“And we’ll need something for the bottom, yeah?” Rhaena is asking, her habit a white wool blur in your peripheral vision, her voice a sweet hazy droning among the trickling of fountains and the grey breeze clattering through leaves and the muttering of cardinals as they stroll across the paths of sand-colored tuff pebbles. Kazi is walking with Cam and Lando and puffing on his vape; he glances over at where you are feeding the koi, looking like he wants to say something, then gets distracted when he spots Cardinal Ferrari.

“And here comes Ferrari flying down the straightaway!” Kazi shouts, clapping his hands as if in encouragement. Cardinal Ferrari with his ink-black hair and crater-deep wrinkles, stooped and shuffling, scowls at him. “He’s in the lead, but can he hold on to it?! He’s almost at the finish line! He’s stomping the gas! The fans are going wild! And…and…he’s done it, first place, whoo hoo!”

Kazi throws his hands into the air and waves them erratically. Cardinal Ferrari pitches him one last glare and then arrives at the cherub-adorned marble fountain where Cardinal Jahoda and Cardinal Koppel are conspiring fruitlessly; what is there left to say? The day after tomorrow votes will be once again cast and tallied in the Sistine Chapel, and this time there is no doubt who will emerge the victor. Not far away, Lucky is conversing with Cardinal Nemerenco, seemingly making assurances to smooth over any remaining turbulence on Aemond’s rise to the Chair of Saint Peter.

“Can we get blue pebbles?” Rhaena is saying, or at least that sounds like what she said; you have no idea what she means.

“What?”

“For the new koi pond,” she says, smiling eagerly. “At the convent. We need pebbles to cover the bottom after we put down a liner.”

“Oh, right. Sure. Do they come in blue?”

“Rocks come in all colors, mate.”

You laugh, shutting the clear plastic container of fish food. “Sorry, I’m still a little…” You gesture to your head. “Messed up, I guess.”

“No wukkas. I know you’re concussed.”

But of course, that’s not the problem. He enters the gardens accompanied by Cardinal Gideon Saati, once a rival, now a collaborator. Aemond is smoking a Karelia cigarette and nodding soberly as Cardinal Saati implores him to consider the needs of the people of South Sudan: humanitarian relief to combat flooding and the resulting food insecurity, providing shelters for the displaced, rescuing and reintegrating child soldiers, building schools, ending female genital mutilation. In the wings, Cardinal do Carmo waits impatiently to discuss his own concerns, perhaps preservation of the Latin Mass for parishes that still cling to it.

Rhaena says: “Do you think Mother Maureen will be stoked to see us?”

“Defo. She’ll pick us up at the airport and then drive straight to the pub for chicken parmi and Bundys.”

“Ripper! I just can’t learn to like red wine. It’s all they drink here.”

Aemond tasted like wine when he kissed me in the chapel, you think dazedly, longingly. And smoke, and lust. “Yeah, loads of wine,” you manage, stealing a glimpse of Aemond. From across the gardens, he is watching you too, quick furtive peeks when Cardinal Saati looks away and won’t notice. Cardinal do Carmo, still waiting, sighs and checks his watch, analog, cheap and temporary. He keeps complaining that they won’t let him have his Apple Watch back until the conclave is over.

“Where sells quality koi fish, do you think?” Rhaena asks.

“There must be places in Sydney.”

“I heard about some big hatchery up in Kundabung.”

“Oh, that’s out in Woop Woop.”

“We could make a day out of it. Lunch and karaoke in the car. Harry is supposed to have a new album coming out soon.” Harry Styles, she means. She calls him Harry, like they know each other. “We can take some of the kids staying in the shelter along too. Field trip!”

“Heaps good,” you say, still distracted. Back to the convent for Christmas, Boxing Day, New Year’s, Australia Day, Lent, Good Friday, Easter? Back to the convent forever? And what was once a sanctuary has become a prison, a cage you built with your own hands, a vow you swore when you were a different person. Saint Blaise was torn apart by iron combs, Saint Barbara was imprisoned in a tower, and right now you feel a little bit like both of them.

Aemond has at last turned his attention to Cardinal do Carmo and is doing his best to seem interested, but you can see he is restless. He flicks ashes off the end of his cigarette, he taps his fingertips against his chin, he glances at the stone statue of Saint Agatha that looms near where he stands. His still-blonde hair is ruffled by the brisk December breeze; absently, you wonder what it would feel like to thread your fingers through it, if he would let you, if he would tell you to stop.

Now the cardinals are making their way back to the Domus Sanctae Marthae for brekkie, a procession of scarlet cassocks and zucchettos perched on greying heads. In the dining hall, Sister Penny, Sister Helvi, and Sister Nuru are dishing out cornetti served with jam, custard, and Nutella. As he leaves the gardens, Lucky looks back at you apprehensively, taking a drag on one of his cigars. He wishes you would disappear, like Saint Agatha’s wounds vanished when Saint Peter’s apparition visited her in a prison cell. But you can’t leave yet; you haven’t decided where you’re going next.

“Should we help with brekkie?” Rhaena says brightly.

“You go ahead. I have to put the fish food away.”

“Sure thing. Cheers!” Then she trots off to join the caravan of cardinals, an island of white in a choppy red sea.

If Aemond intended to speak to you—and you have the impression he did—that has been derailed by Cardinal do Carmo’s impassioned audience. Aemond exits the gardens as you venture further into them until you reach the shed used by the groundskeepers, now mostly unneeded in the winter months. You unlatch the door, step into the shadows, and store the plastic container of brine-smelling pellets on a wooden shelf. When you reemerge into the cool steely daylight, a hand snags on your wrist. You yelp, a reflex, a muscle memory, a shudder all the way down to your bones.

“Are you proud of the role you’ve played in his ascension, girl?” Auclair says, tall and barbed like razor wire, snow white hair, narrow icy eyes. “I know a nonbeliever when I see one.”

You rip your arm out of his grasp. “Don’t you ever fucking touch me,” you hiss; you, who have never raised your voice to a priest in your life, you, who thought you had cultivated such patience for the failings of mortals.

Auclair is stunned; but more than that, he is enraged. “I’ll have you thrown out of Vatican City.”

“And I’ll have Aemond excommunicate you when he’s the pope,” you say, and shove roughly past him as you stride towards the Domus Sanctae Marthae, your habit billowing like sails.

~~~~~~~~~~

At lunch, veal Milanese and radicchio salad, Cardinal Micallef of Malta seeks out Aemond to discuss his concern that European governments are disrupting the activities of NGO ships attempting to aid migrants in the Mediterranean. At dinner, cod arracanato and gnocchi with Sicilian Christmas bikkies for dessert, Cardinal Kelly of Ireland takes a seat at Aemond’s table to urge him not to soften the Church’s teachings on abortion. During the meetings throughout the day—while you and the other nuns are doing the washing, wiping down sinks and countertops and showers, sweeping floors, making beds, scrubbing toilets—cardinals fiercely debate pressing questions of the Faith as Aemond sits quietly, watching, listening, now so high above their squabbling. When inevitably the red-cloaked men turn to seek his counsel (and foresee in which direction he will lead them when he is pope), Aemond turns their attention to his friends:

“I believe Cardinal Shane Campbell has demonstrated through his work in Mongolia that the future of evangelism is working within communities to better understand their customs and their needs, not a top-down implementation…”

“If Cardinal Luckson Louissaint can help to rebuild Haitian infrastructure with his own hands, surely it is not unreasonable to expect cardinals in other countries to do the same. I would encourage my brothers serving in Brazil, South Africa, and Romania to look to his example…”

“It seems to me that Cardinal Kazimierz Nowak has shown outreach to people with so-called ‘irregular’ lifestyles helps to broaden the societal influence of the Church, not undermine it…”

“Brothers, we must remember that Christ himself was a servant, not a scholar, and there is an urgent need for priests who are willing to do work that is hard and unglamorous and so often disregarded. For an exemplar, we need look no further than Cardinal Orlando Almazan…”

Now it is nightfall, and you have slipped away from Sister Penny’s endless list of chores and frazzled requests to hide in Saint Peter’s Basilica, where you are only occasionally disturbed by cardinals who have gotten turned around and need help finding their way out. You lead them back to the Domus Sanctae Marthae like the Archangel Raphael guides travelers, ever-patient and uncomplaining, as if you could not possibly have desires of your own, as if you have been created for no other purpose.

You find an alcove by a large statue of Saint Apollonia, whose teeth were ripped out of her skull, where you can hear the crowds outside in the square singing Good King Wenceslas. You envision the dripping white candles in their hands; you picture the warm glow of firelight on their faces. As the music enfolds you, reverberating off the white marble and red porphyry and travertine the color of sand, you close your eyes.

Two more days, then this is over.

You will board a flight back to Sydney, resume your life there, never see Aemond again except on Facebook, Instagram, YouTube, the television when the sisters turn the news on, and even then you will have to pretend not to really know him.

Why did God bring us back together? you can’t stop thinking, haunted by it. To test us, to torment us? Or to show us the path we should be taking?

There is a muffled thump behind you, like someone dropping a paperback book. You turn around to find Aemond standing there in an aisle of light that falls in through a window, red cassock, gold cross, his hands clasped behind his back. You say, smiling: “Did you just kick Saint Apollonia?”

He chuckles, a little sheepishly. “I was trying not to startle you.”

“It worked. Good on ya.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t get a chance to say hi earlier.”

“Yeah, you’ve been under the pump all day.”

“Everybody wants something.”

“Because now they know nothing can stop you.”

“Almost nothing,” Aemond says, and you see that shadows have grown under his eyes like blossoms that open in the springtime, that doubt he’s never known before is flourishing, a verdant indomitable weed, ivy covering his cold stone walls.

You ask, your voice soft: “Is there any way people could find out?” About the child?

“I don’t think so,” Aemond replies, like he’s spent a lot of time considering this, sleepless nights with demons scratching from the closet. “If Alys never told anyone, only the genes know the secret. I guess if he ever took one of those ancestry tests, and someone in my family did one, he could connect the dots. But I’m careful about that. Kazi sent me a 23AndMe kit last Christmas, but I never mailed in a sample. Now he jokes that I’m a serial killer and don’t want my DNA on file.”

Several long moments pass, punctuated only by distant, distorted music. “Is Alys still in Nisyros?”

“No, she died two years ago. Cancer.”

“Good.”

Aemond looks at you, his scarred eyebrow raised. “You’re usually so forgiving.”

“Usually.”

He peers around, seeing no one for you to assist, nothing for you to clean or serve or rearrange. “What are you doing in here?”

“I love Christmas music, and I can’t hear it anyplace else.”

He is quiet so he can listen. The next song has begun. “It Came Upon A Midnight Clear?”

You nod, resting your head against the wall, closing your eyes again. “It’s pretty ace.”

Another pause; the wheels in Aemond’s skull are spinning. “Do you have a favorite?”

“Probably…” You consider this. “O Come, All Ye Faithful.”

“You’ll be home soon. Then you can listen to Christmas music all the time.”

“I guess so.” Does he want that? When I leave the Vatican, will he be heartbroken or relieved? “I went to your room last night, you know. Before I found you in the gym.”

Aemond is startled, though perhaps not in a bad way. “My room?”

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

You shrug, your eyes still shut. “Maybe just to talk.”

“Maybe?”

There are heavy, echoing footsteps approaching rapidly. Your eyes flutter open; you move away from the wall, away from Aemond. “Cardinal Targaryen?” a man calls.

Aemond groans, exasperated. Then he collects himself. “Yes, Brother?”

Cardinal Everton Yearwood of Barbados ripples from the shadows, an urgent stab of red. “I was hoping to discuss a very important matter, and I am optimistic that you can put my mind at ease.”

Aemond turns to him as you retreat, becoming invisible, fading into the statues and the mosaics and the beams of cool December daylight. “How can I help you, Cardinal Yearwood?”

“Well, you see, the American ambassador to my country is a homosexual,” Yearwood begins.

“Okay,” Aemond says flatly.

“And this is…this is no good. And there have been some protests because him being there is inconsistent with our morals. I wrote a statement, but it did not have any effect, he regrettably remained the ambassador. So I think it would be appreciated…not just by me, but by my fellow cardinals as well…if you made some sort of public proclamation about the importance of national leaders being able to act in accordance with their consciences and therefore object to certain impositions.”

Aemond sighs irritably. “Brother, this is not a real problem.”

“Respectfully, I must disagree—”

“If the ambassador is gay, let him be gay. The Lord commands us to love all people and judge no one, the instructions are very simple.”

“But the Bible condemns immoral behavior—”

“That is for God to judge, not you.”

“As a shepherd of the flock, it is my responsibility to protect my sheep from the influences of the Enemy. I must defend their chastity, the health of their bodies, the sanctity of marriage—”

“And the pope is the shepherd of all shepherds,” Aemond retorts ominously. “You must follow where he leads you. In less than two days, we will have a new Holy Father. I trust you will defer to his leadership, whoever he might be.”

“Yes, Cardinal Targaryen. Of course.” Yearwood is abruptly conciliatory, perhaps even afraid. “I did not mean to offend you.”

“Go in peace, Brother,” Aemond says; but he raises his bandaged right hand as if it is a reminder: I was chosen, you were not.

~~~~~~~~~~

There is a knock on your bedroom door.

Rhaena, who had been chatting away about new recipes to try this year—oddities she read about before you stepped out of Leonardo da Vinci International Airport and into seclusion, Christmas lasagna with layers of red velvet and peppermint cheesecake and vanilla pudding dyed green, fruitcake bikkies, coconut chocolate baklava (a twist on a Greek dessert, inspired by the impending Greek pope, of course)—whirls to you, baffled. No one ever knocks this late. Rhaena is already in her pajamas and under the covers; you were just about to change out of your white wool habit and take a shower, cloak yourself in opaque steam, think of Aemond and then wash his memory off of you.

“Sister Helvi?” you guess. There is no reply. When you open the door, Aemond is in the hallway instead.

You stare up at him, blinking, your fingers settling on the doorframe so they won’t stray to his hands or his chest or his scarred cheek. He is a pillar of red; a gold cross hanging from his neck, face impassive like cold marble, hands hidden behind his back. Aemond’s eye flicks momentarily to where Rhaena is gaping at him worshipfully from her bed, then returns to you. “I need clean sheets,” he says.

“Okay,” you reply, stunned. Then he begins walking away.

You turn to Rhaena. She flings her arms wide; you shrug in return. You don’t know what’s going on either.

Aemond glances back to observe you aren’t following him yet. “Right now,” he says; and you are wrenched from your confusion and your delay, because now you understand what he wants.

To see me, to talk to me, maybe even more.

“I’ll fetch the sheets and be upstairs in a tick.”

“Good,” Aemond says, and vanishes towards the elevators. You take the stairwell to the basement, a dripping cold place like an underworld, freshly-washed bedding in high white stacks, spiders weaving webs in dark corners and on the ceiling.

Aemond opens his bedroom door before you can get your key out of your pocket. He must have been listening for your footsteps. He is all the way at the end of a hall; he doesn’t even have a neighbor since Cardinal Marcu went back to Romania. You drift inside, a white wisp like smoke, and he locks the door behind you. The light is dim, midnight outside and tall white candles flickering on the writing desk. Aemond seems surprised when you go straight to his bed and yank off the blanket.

“What are you doing?”

“Changing the sheets,” you answer.

“You don’t have to.” And now he’s admitted that’s not the real reason you’re here.

“I know. I want to. You can wait.” You strip the sheets from the mattress, feeling for spots that have dried stiff like bumps of Braille, inhaling vapors of him: smoke, salt, cologne, vanilla and amber and cinnamon. You toss the old sheets to the floor, then begin stretching on the new ones.

Aemond watches you for a few seconds, then sits down in the chair by his writing desk. He pours himself red wine—from a decanter into a small glass, a splash of lava, blood in crystal—and sips it as he studies you, his eye on you like a touch you can feel, running over your ribs and down your thighs. Your heartbeat is loud in your ears, your pulse scorching like magma boiling beneath the earth. Still, you are patient, you are deliberate; you bend far over the bed to tug the corners of the sheets beneath the mattress, you smooth the soft white cotton with slow, teasing hands. Then you are done, and you stand in front of his single-sized bed—never meant to be shared—with your hands laced together and a forbidden question written on your face.

Aemond takes another swig of wine. His left hand, knuckles white and tendons taut, is gripping the arm of his chair. “We can just talk,” he offers.

“I don’t want to talk.”

He stands, gulps the last of his wine, and begins to unbutton his cassock; but he turns away as he does this, as if part of him is still ashamed. You take off your white wool habit like Aemond did in Saint Peter’s Square when you were on fire, when he baptized you with fountain water and blood, when he won the Keys of Heaven days before the conclave would vote for the last time. Then you shed what is under it, pale green jumper, emerald-colored skirt, and then everything else too until you are bare, revealed, and no man has seen you this way in fifteen years. You leave your iron medallion on the nightstand. Then you sit on the edge of the bed, and Aemond joins you, and here at the midpoint of your lives you are suddenly teenagers again, nervous and exhilarated, knowing that nothing will ever be the same.

He reaches for you with his wounded hand, and only then do you realize you’ve left on your veil. Gently, he pulls out each pin, and then your hair is uncovered. He grazes his fingers through the unearthed strands, admires your face like you are something holy. Then he is so close you can feel the heat rising off his skin, see the need in the oceanic blue of his iris, and your palm is pressed to his heartbeat, and as he kisses you—so soft and so hopeful—you are thinking: I have to make this good for him. We might only get once.

You laugh, anxious, apologetic. “I think I forgot how to do this.”

You can feel the smile on his lips. “It’ll come back to you.”

“Just like you did.”

And now you’re falling into it like a current: his thumbprint skating up the line of your jaw, his lips wet with wine and warm and hungry, your eyelids dipping shut, a blind curtain falling. A weight settles on your waist, and you flinch before you can stop yourself. Aemond immediately lifts his bandaged hand away.

“I’m sorry,” you say, terrified that you’ll ruin this. “I’m not afraid of you, I don’t know why I can’t...I can’t...” Why I can’t make my body forget. Why I can’t be brand new again.

“Hey,” Aemond says gently, kissing you again. “Just watch me the whole time, okay?”

“Okay,” you whisper. Will that work? Can I do this?

Now he’s on his knees like he’s lost in prayer, but he isn’t, and he’s never been; he’s lost in you, skimming his lips up the inside of your thigh, your left hand dragging through his blonde hair, your right palm sinking into the mattress and leaving indents like footprints in wet sand. And then he’s there—warmth, pressure, bloodrush, gravity—and his arms are hooked under your thighs to keep you close, and your trembling fingers comb through his hair, sweat in a sheen on your belly and your chest, thanking him in hushed breathless murmurs because it feels like a prayer has been answered, like you have pleaded for Saint Lucy to cure your blindness, like you are Lazarus being raised from the dead, a vision, a revelation, a resurrection, something that ended too soon being brought back to life again. You watch him—and you are shaking, gasping, marveling, is this real?—and then at last you let your head fall back and your eyes close, because you know in your muscles and your bones that no one will hurt you while he’s here, no one will ever hurt you again, and the phantoms of corporeal memory fade, fade, fade until they are gone, sandcastles obliterated by the surf.

His tongue laps harder, faster, his arms yanking you closer, drinking you like wine, your wetness on his face like candle wax, and you collapse across his bed as your hips follow his cadence like the tides of the ocean, your own hands covering your mouth to smother your moans, wanting to scream—like when Saint Apollonia’s teeth were torn out, like when Saint Lawrence was roasted alive—but knowing you can’t, not here and now, not ever with Aemond, because this has to be a secret unless he shreds the myth he’s written for himself and burns it down to ashes.

Where his mouth is on you—famished, forceful, scarlet scalding heat—has turned to trapped magma, and it hemorrhages up through the earth and spills down the side of the crater in a river, a red glow, a devastating release, and then he’s scaling your body as he climbs onto the bed, you kissing him violently as you throb and pant beneath him, opening your thighs wide, wanting him to give you that again already, an exorcism, a baptism, and wanting him too, all of him, even if only tonight, a sliver of a lifetime in which you belong to each other, a glimpse through the keyhole of a door.

His palms are cupping your face, and then his fingers are inside of you, a strange sensation because it’s been so long, but when his hand begins to move the euphoria comes rushing back like a ricochet, someone you haven’t been in a long time, a fifteen-year drought that ends with a downpour. He covers you like a veil—his sweat-slick chest against yours, his belly, his hips—and you’re so ready for him that even though he is thick and long there is no friction at all when he enters you, only a painless perfect fullness, a relief that rolls up through you like a wave, yes I can do this, yes I want this desperately.

Aemond murmurs, breaking a kiss that is ravenous: “Are you alright?”

You nod, and then sigh into his open mouth: “All the way.”

And he gives you what you ask for, until he is buried in you completely, until there is a deep rapturous pressure that feels so good you almost can’t stand it, it is too overwhelming, it is too divine, his thrusts like tremors of earthquakes that open blood red crevices, a scorching abyss that consumes. You don’t even to think to remind Aemond to make sure you won’t get pregnant. You know he wouldn’t do that to you. You know he is haunted enough already.

He gasps and withdrawals, strokes himself just twice, spills out onto the clean sheets with a moan; but now he is too far away. You follow him, nuzzling the scarred half of his face, closing a hand around his cock and squeezing him as he jolts with aftershocks, running your thumb up over the tip, soaking your hand with his salt and his lust, and Aemond tilts up your jaw so he can kiss you, your wetness still gleaming on his lips and his tongue, bathed in each other’s earthen minerals and gluttonous for more.

“It doesn’t feel wrong,” he says, wonderous like he didn’t think this was possible.

“No,” you agree softly. “It doesn’t.”

Aemond wants to be the one to wash you clean. You go to his shower together, constructed for a much older man: lots of room to maneuver, a bench to take the strain off unsteady legs. As steaming water beats down, Aemond is kneeling and lathering soap on your thighs and your hips and your belly, a thick white viscous film that makes you want more of him. You go down to the floor, the white tile biting at your knees, the water pouring over your back, and in his lap you find a rhythm you thought was lost to you, relearn how to move and how to balance, and his palms are on your face when you come, the bandages on his right hand sodden and turning pink as he bleeds through them. Aemond tells you when to stop—it doesn’t take long—but you wish he didn’t have to. There is a starvation you’ve never felt before: for his body, for his soul.

You have to go back to your room. You’ve already been gone for too much time to easily explain away. You are rushing to towel off your hair when you notice the carnage of Aemond’s bed: tangled cotton sheets, damp patches you both left on them. “Now you really do need clean sheets,” you say, intending to bring some.

“Leave them,” Aemond replies, smiling drowsily. He picks up your medallion off his nightstand and returns it, placing it in your empty, unpierced palm. “I want them to smell like you.”

~~~~~~~~~~

There are sounds of clanging pots and silverware coming from the kitchenette, and the rich homey scents of caramelized sugar, vanilla, warm milk. This is unusual; no one uses it for anything more than snacks and tea. Bewildered, you peek inside. Lando is standing over the table and piercing a large circular custard resting in a saucepan with a toothpick. On the counter behind him, you see an empty egg carton, spilled snowfalls of white sugar, opened cans of evaporated and sweetened condensed milk.

“Cardinal Almazan?” you say, stepping inside. “What are you making?”

He lifts the toothpick from the custard and observes that it is clean. Then he looks up at you and beams. “Leche flan. The Spanish brought it to us, but we made it sweeter.”

“It smells fantastic.”

“I am not so talented, but Saint Honoratus of Amiens lends his assistance.”

Saint Honoratus is the patron saint of bakers, as well as candlemakers, florists, and oil refiners. “Is he your saint?” Everybody has one, whether or not a medallion hangs from their throat.

“Saint Nicholas,” Lando says instead. “The patron saint of children. They are our most precious gifts, and yet so vulnerable. But we’re all children to the Lord, no matter how old we grow. We need guidance. We need protection. We need to know that we are unconditionally loved.” Then he continues, meaning the flan: “It has to go in the refrigerator overnight, and I’ll flip it onto a plate in the morning so the caramel side is on top. But then you’re welcome to have as much as you’d like.”

“Oh no, I couldn’t devour all your hard work. I’m sure it’s meant for you and your friends.”

Lando is perplexed. “It’s for anyone who wants it.” He sets the saucepan aside so the flan can begin to cool. Then he goes to the sink and begins scrubbing spatulas and measuring cups. This is startling; you can’t remember the last time you saw a priest tidying up.

“Cardinal Almazan, please, let me do that.”

“It’s my mess, Sister,” he says. “But if you’d like to sit and chat while I work, I’d appreciate the company.”

Reluctantly, you drop into one of the chairs around the table; and you remember Sister Augustina slumped here, eternally motionless, irrevocably silent, her hollow exoskeleton of a body shipped home to Germany to rest beside the child she lost in life, that she is now reunited with in a place where all mortal failings are washed away and we are left stainless.

Lando smiles, pleased, then notices something that concerns him. “Why is your hair wet, Sister?”

The shower. You reach up self-consciously to feel the narrow band of hair that your veil leaves uncovered, more than damp, almost sopping. You grapple for an explanation, your panic evident. Then you mumble something about wanting to get warmed up with a hot bath. Your flustered response is far more suspicious than your hair. Your face is burning, your gaze darting evasively around the kitchenette.

Lando’s eyes go wide—he must understand, or at least have an inkling—then he turns back to the dishes. He asks you as he scrubs, his voice pleasant and benign, pivoting: “Have you done much traveling in your service to the Church? Before this trip, I mean.”

“Yeah nah, not yet. Other sisters in my convent have, they hopped over to Canada and the States…last year Sister Rhaena went on a group trip to visit a convent in Anchorage, Alaska, isn’t that grouse?”

“Oh yes, very grouse,” Lando agrees, although surely he doesn’t know what it means. “You didn’t want to go with Sister Rhaena?”

You hesitate. “I’ve always preferred to stay close to Sydney. It feels like home.”

“You are looking forward to returning to your convent, then?”

Something catches in you, a wince, a dread; you are Saint Bartholomew, having your skin flayed layer by layer until you are secretless. “I want to see Mother Maureen, and the other sisters too. I want to be able to celebrate the holidays with our guests staying in the shelter. But…” It’s the first time you’ve ever said it aloud, but it’s true. “No. No, I don’t want to go back to living that way.”

Lando comes and sits down in the chair beside you, offers you his small open palms, creased with lines like how the earth is demarcated by the equator and the prime meridian, different hemispheres, different lifetimes.

What if we had never left that beach?

You give Lando your hands, and he doesn’t say anything, he just holds them gently so you know you aren’t alone.

“Lucky believes I should stay away from Aemond,” you say, and there are scalding tears filling up your eyes, blurring your vision, leaving you blind. Then they flow down your cheeks in rivers. “What do you think?”

Lando smiles. “Why would I have any wisdom to offer you? I think you should listen to God.”

“But I can’t tell what he’s saying.”

“You can’t tell, or you don’t want to?”

And impossibly, that voice is becoming clearer already. “What brought you to the Church, Cardinal Almazan?”

“I had a good life and a good family, and I enjoyed all of it. Our house was beautiful, and it had air conditioning, and a courtyard with fountains and bright green parrots, and I went to the best schools in Manila. But there were always street kids around when we were driven to places, you see. They’d be there on the sidewalks begging tourists for money, and they were filthy, skinny, covered in scars, some of them maimed. On an ordinary morning, I was staring out the car window at one of those children, a boy around my age, and I thought, filled with disgust and horror: That could be me. And then, Sister, the strangest thing happened. I heard a voice that was so loud and so unmistakable it rattled my bones: You should care no matter who it is. All at once, in that moment, everything seemed to shift for me. I saw the world so differently, and I believed in God in a way that was effortless and without question. And my family perceived me becoming increasingly devout as a series of pointless sacrifices, but to me…I felt at peace. Everything was suddenly so simple. Joy came from the most mundane places. I appreciated everything.”

You are amazed. “That’s how the Faith feels for me too.”

“But you don’t have to be a nun to follow the Lord.”

“No,” you whisper. “I don’t.”

“You have listened to God for so many years. I’m sure he will speak to you now.”

Yes. Yes he will. Lando releases your hands as you rise from the table, feeling exhausted and sore all over, feeling free. “Thank you, Cardinal Almazan.”

“Please just call me Lando, Sister.”

“It seems too informal.”

“And I am no one special,” he says, grinning. “Don’t forget to help yourself to some leche flan tomorrow.”

You laugh shakily, swiping away the tears that glitter on your eyelashes. “I will.”

“Goodnight, Sister.”

“Goodnight, Lando.”

And as you are gliding through the doorway, white and silent like a ghost, you hear Lando turn the sink back on so he can finish the dishes.

[spiicii]

mamma mia / a bloodline au

chapter 1: i wonder (departure)

jey uso / jimmy uso / roman reigns x fem!oc  word count → 4.4k summary → with wrestlemania only weeks away, jey, jimmy, and roman take a much needed break. however things get complicated when they each receive a letter from an old high school sweetheart.   tags → original characters, recreational drug use, mentions of alcoholism and recovery, slow burn, angst, eventual romance, eventual smut, tags to be added links → masterlist / taglist

April 2025 

Pensacola, Florida 

The day was perfect. 

White, puffy clouds drifted lazily across a brilliant blue sky, a soft breeze teasing the tree branches that hung low over the patio. The azalea’s were in bloom, brilliant hues of pink surrounding the backyard and causing the air to smell like springtime. The afternoon was peaceful. Serene. 

It wasn’t warm enough to get in the pool, but Jey still sat on the edge, his long legs dangling into the cool water. He was more relaxed than he’d been in months, his eyes closed as he leaned back to soak in more of the sun. He could hear birds calling in the oak trees, the sound of someone cutting their grass a distant hum in the background. 

“Want a hit?” 

A voice had Jey opening his eyes, squinting up at the large figure towering over him. He took the blunt without a word, watching with amusement as his twin dropped down beside him. 

“Mom ain’t gonna like this.” Jey commented, but he took a long drag from it all the same, allowing the sweet smoke to fill his lungs. 

“Mom ain’t gotta know.” Jimmy replied, a teasing note in his voice before he snatched the blunt from his brother’s hand. “Besides, she in there cookin’ something. She won’t be back out for a while.” 

Jey hummed noncommittally, watching as Jimmy exhaled some smoke of his own. He considered asking about his sponsor’s thoughts on weed use while in the AA program, then decided against it. Jimmy seemed to be in a good mood for the first time in months and he knew bringing up his sobriety would only irritate him. And the day was too beautiful to ruin. 

Jey leaned back and closed his eyes instead, feeling the warmth of the sun on his face. “Where’s Roman?” 

Jimmy exhaled more smoke, his legs swirling restlessly in the clear water. “Who knows. Taking another call, maybe? That fool don’t know how to relax.” 

“You’d think WWE would collapse if he took even one afternoon off.” Jey laughed, motioning for Jimmy to pass the blunt back to him. “God forbid he actually rest for once.” 

“I do rest.” 

Roman’s booming voice caused both twins to turn around, startled by his sudden presence. Roman’s mouth quirked into a smile. “But I also don’t ignore phone calls from our boss.” 

Jimmy waved his hand. “I think he’d survive if you sent him to voicemail. Thought we agreed to chill today, uce?” 

“I am chill.” Roman’s voice was almost defensive, rolling up his pant legs before settling on the edge of the pool beside Jey. He grimaced as he dipped his legs into the cold water, waving away the blunt that Jey offered him. 

“But Mania is only two weeks away. I can’t be ignoring calls. Not now.” 

Jey shrugged, taking another hit before passing the blunt back to his brother. “Yeah, I know whatchu mean. If I check my phone right now, I probably got a million missed calls.” 

“Aye, but that’s because you they future World Heavyweight Champion.” Jimmy said with a grin, nudging his twin’s arm. “WWE might actually fall apart without you.” 

Jey rolled his eyes. “Uh huh, sure. Tell that to my adoring Internet fans.” He hadn’t meant for the words to come out so bitter and he wasn’t surprised when both Roman and Jimmy turned to stare at him. 

“Come on, uce. I told you to quit looking at that shit.” Jimmy was frowning now. “Ain’t nothing good gonna come outta seeing all that.” 

“Yeah, I know.” Jey muttered, unable to look either of them in the eye. 

Roman’s shoulder brushed his in silent reassurance, his gaze at his cousin kind. “Jimmy’s right. Those aren’t real fans. They’re just trolls. Losers who don’t even buy tickets. Your real fans are in the crowd every week. You know that.” 

This wasn’t the first time they’d talked about this and Jey couldn’t help but feel like he was being lectured. He’d spent too long as the youngest in their trio, always at the receiving end of one lecture or another, whether from one of them or their parents. Feeling ganged up and getting defensive was pretty much instinctual at this point. 

“Yeah, yeah, I know.” Jey snatched the blunt from Jimmy’s hand, taking another long drag to force himself to relax. “We ain’t gotta go over it all again.” 

Jimmy and Roman both wisely stayed silent. The afternoon was too beautiful to argue and they both knew it was a sensitive subject. Besides, they’d all agreed to take the afternoon off before flying to Chicago for their next show. With Wrestlemania coming up, this was probably the last break they’d get for a while. 

“You still talking to that girl?” Roman asked, deciding to change the subject. “You know, that pretty one in NXT?” 

Jey scowled. “Nah, we was just fucking around. You know she too young for me, uce.” 

Roman raised his hands, as if he were surrendering. “Hey, I was just asking. Didn’t know if maybe you’d caught feelings or something.” 

“For a 26-year-old?” Jey kicked the water. “No, thanks. I got enough problems as it is.” 

Jimmy chuckled, taking what remained of the blunt from his brother’s fingers before flicking it off to the side. “I hear that. Though she was pretty. Definitely too pretty for yo ugly ass.” 

Jey glared at him. “We got the same face, dumbass.” 

“Last I checked we was fraternal twins. Not identical. Which is why I’ve aged better than you.” 

“Aged better than me? You fucking wish. You got more grey in your beard than I do!” 

“Please. Ladies love the grey. You just jealous.” 

“Man, if you don’t-”

“I thought we agreed to chill today.” Roman interrupted, trying to resist the urge to laugh. He was used to the twin’s bickering. “Especially since we got that early ass call in Chicago tomorrow.” 

“Don’t remind me.” Jimmy groaned. “I got a match with Melo tomorrow.” 

Roman raised an eyebrow. “Thought you liked working with Melo?” 

“I like him because he’s safe. But that cocky attitude…” Jimmy shook his head. “It makes me wanna put hands on that motherfucker.” 

Jey chuckled. “These rookies are a different breed, man. Ain’t like how it was when we was coming up.” 

The three of them continued to chat, falling back into an easy rhythm. It had been a long time since they’d spent any real time together. Ever since the Bloodline story ended, they’d all gone their separate ways, only able to see each other on holidays or whenever their storylines crossed. It was nice for the original trio to be back together. It felt like how it did back in the old days: the three of them sitting on the edge of the pool talking, Rikishi eventually calling them back in for dinner. It was nice. It was needed. 

Their parents seemed to agree, spending most of the dinner chattering about how happy they were to have the three of them back together. It was strange to be without any of their other siblings, the house unusually empty now that everyone had grown up and moved away. They knew it had taken a toll on their parents, who were used to the bustle and chatter of eight children. 

“It’s just so good to see you back together again,” their mother gushed, reaching out to squeeze Jimmy’s hand. “When are you going to get the Bloodline story going again? Everyone misses seeing the family together.” 

Roman smiled. “Maybe soon. Jey’s gotta win that Heavyweight Championship first.” 

“Well, we ain’t gotta worry about that,” Rikishi replied, his eyes shining with pride as he looked at his younger son. “It’s only a few weeks away. And we already know he’s got this in the bag.” 

Jey seemed embarrassed, quickly taking a sip of his drink to avoid all the eyes that were suddenly trained on him. “Come on, Dad. It ain’t a set in stone thing.” 

Rikishi looked like he was going to say more, but their mother quickly stood, effectively ending any potential arguments. “Oh! I forgot! All three of you got something in the mail. I set it on the counter over here.” 

She quickly retrieved the letters, passing them out to each of them. The boys took them with confused expressions, their eyes scanning the unfamiliar handwriting on the front. 

Roman raised an eyebrow, glancing over at Rikishi. “Don’t think I’ve ever used your address for mail, Pops.” 

Rikishi shrugged. “It didn’t look like spam which is why we didn’t throw them away. It’s postmarked from Greece.” 

Jimmy gave his mother a suspicious look, holding up his envelope. “Why does mine already look open?” 

Their mother looked sheepish. “Well, it’s been sitting on the counter for ages! And they just looked so mysterious! I had to know what was in them.” 

“Mama! You not supposed to open other people’s mail.” 

She waved her hands dismissively. “Oh, please. I’m your mother.” 

Nobody could argue with her on that. Instead, the three of them opened their letters, each of them containing a wedding invitation: 

An RSVP card was also attached, along with some instructions on how to make reservations at the hotel. But it was the handwritten at the bottom of each card that had all three of them surprised. 

I wanted to invite you to my daughter’s wedding as a chance to reconnect. I know it’s been a long time, but I want to see you. Please come. I’ll be waiting. Love, Danielle

Jey’s heart immediately stuttered at the sight, nearly dropping the paper in surprise. He felt his cheeks heating up, re-reading the handwritten message over and over again to make sure he wasn’t hallucinating. He didn’t dare look up to meet anyone else’s gaze, though he knew Roman and Jimmy were staring at him. 

Of course, their mother was oblivious. “Joshua, isn’t that the nice girl you dated in high school?” 

Jey swallowed, his mind already racing a million miles an hour. Was this some kind of joke? The last time they’d spoken, Dani had made it clear she never wanted to see him again. 

“Oh, I remember her.” Rikishi was saying. “Her family used to live down the street. You took her to prom, didn’t you?” 

Jey knew everyone was looking at him, waiting for some kind of response. He quickly straightened his spine, forcing himself to smile. 

“Yeah, I did. Haven’t talked to her in a minute though.” 

Jimmy’s face was strangely blank. “Yeah, I haven’t either. Didn’t know she had a kid.” 

Their mother turned to Roman. “Joe, you remember her too, don’t you? You used to always go along to chaperone their dates. She was a pretty thing, wasn’t she?” 

Roman crossed his arms over his chest, frowning. “Yeah. Yeah, she was.” His voice sounded more tense than usual. 

“Oh, this is just wonderful! You three have to go! It’ll be like a little high school reunion.” 

None of them said anything, though Jey didn’t miss the way Jimmy’s eyes kept flickering over to him. He was, no doubt, remembering how badly their breakup had been that summer after graduation. That was the last time he’d ever seen Dani. He remembered her dark eyes filled with tears, her pretty face a mask of hurt. He remembered with a pang of guilt the awful things he’d said to her. The way he’d pushed her aside. It made him sick to think about it. 

“Weren’t you three talking about needing a vacation some time this summer?” Rikishi asked. “Greece would be beautiful that time of year. Jon, I know you always said you wanted to go back.” 

“Yeah, but…” Jimmy floundered, still looking over at his younger twin. “I mean, it’s been a long time. How can we be sure she even remembers us?” 

Their mother gave him an incredulous look. “Why else would she invite you? And look at that little handwritten note she put at the bottom. She really wants to see you!” 

Jimmy sighed. “Ain’t it illegal to read someone else’s mail?” 

“Jonathan.” Their mother’s tone was warning. “I’m being serious. You three have been working too hard. And you never get to see each other anymore! This is just perfect. And besides, this might be good for your brother.” 

All eyes were on Jey again. 

“Whatchu mean?” Jey asked, hating how defensive his voice sounded. He cleared his throat. “I mean, why would it be good for me?” 

His mother smiled. “Maybe this is a second chance. You’re single. Maybe she’s single too.” 

“Mama!” Jimmy’s tone was chastising. “She has a kid. And even if she was single, the kid’s dad is probably gonna be there.” 

Their mother waved her hand. “It’s not like that means anything. And why else would she write such a nice little note on his invitation?” 

“She wrote a note on ours too.” Roman pointed out, holding up his card for the table to see. “I don’t think it means that.” 

“Well, it could!” Their mother let out a huff. “It just feels like fate. An old high school relationship reaches back out to you after twenty years? That has to mean something! Tell them, honey.” She motioned to Rikishi who just shrugged. 

“Maybe. I’m just thinking of your careers. I’ve told you a million times that if you don’t take any time for yourselves you’re going to get burned out. And what happens to burned out wrestlers?” 

“They get injured. Yes, Pops, we know.” Jimmy quickly tried to squash any potential lecture their father was already gearing up for. They’d heard enough to last a lifetime. “But, I mean, Greece? That’s pretty far to go meet with someone we haven’t seen in twenty years.” 

Roman was quick to agree. “Yes and that would take a lot of planning. We have commitments. Shows to attend. Storylines to continue. We can’t just up and leave.” 

Rikishi scoffed. “Please. You can do whatever you want. You’re the biggest draw at that damn company. Besides, it’s only for a week. It’s not like you’re missing SummerSlam.” 

“Yeah, well not all of us are as lucky as the Tribal Chief,” Jimmy shot Roman an accusatory look. “Some of us have to show up to work or else we’ll get fired.” 

“You’re being ridiculous,” their mother said. “Joe would never let that happen. Dwayne would never let that happen. You don’t have anything to worry about.” 

Jey had been staying silent for most of the conversation, his eyes still staring at the note at the bottom of the card. It had been so long he couldn’t remember what her handwriting looked like. Why would she want him there? Hell, why did she want all three of them there? They hadn’t seen her in years. And their breakup had been…painful, to say the least. 

You’re really going to throw this relationship away after everything we’ve been through? Dani’s voice had been strained, clearly fighting back tears. I thought you loved me. 

Her words still cut deep, even all these years later. He had loved her. More than he’d ever loved anyone. And he hadn’t loved anyone else since. 

“Uce?” Jimmy was nudging his shoulder, his face concerned. “You good?” 

Jey put down the paper, passing a hand over his face. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m good. Just…thinking.” 

“Well, listen. I’ll take care of everything,” their mother said, already plucking the RSVP cards from their hands. “I’ll write her back and tell her you’re coming. I’ll even get the flights together. It’ll be fun! You have to promise to send me pictures.” 

Jey was surprised that he didn’t feel compelled to argue with her. Every logical thought in his brain told him that this was a bad idea. Dani wouldn’t want to see him. She had every right to hate him. He’d done her wrong. And he’d spent the past twenty years regretting it. 

Still, it didn’t change how he felt. His heart was still racing, his chest suddenly tight with emotions he thought he’d buried years ago. Perhaps he was a sentimental fool, but he desperately wanted to believe the words she’d written on the page. 

I know it’s been a long time, but I want to see you.

Did she really? After all these years? After everything that went down? It seemed too good to be true. 

Jey felt another brush against his shoulder and he looked over to meet Roman’s eyes. 

“I’ll back your play, uce. Whatever you want.” He said. His face seemed carefully blank, like he didn’t want to burst Jey’s bubble. “I can talk to Hunter and sort it out. You and Jimmy ain’t gotta worry. Do you wanna go?” 

Jey stared at the writing again. 

Please come. I’ll be waiting.

“Yeah,” Jey’s voice was hoarse, an emotion he was too scared to name stuck in his throat. “Yeah, I do.” 

Jimmy shut the bathroom door behind him with more force than necessary, struggling to control his breathing. He’d already been on edge all night, their father doing nothing to help the situation. 

“You found a new apartment yet?” Rikishi had asked when they were alone in the kitchen. “Or you still living in that shithole in North Hill?” 

Jimmy had struggled to control his anger, keeping his voice low so the others wouldn’t hear from the dining room. “It’s just temporary, Pops. Just until I find another place.” 

“And you been going to those AA meetings? Talking to your sponsor?” 

“Will you just leave it, Dad?” 

Ever since the divorce, Rikishi hadn’t given him a single moment’s peace. In his eyes, his oldest son, a boy he used to call his pride and joy, was a failure. He’d tarnished the family reputation with his DUIs and disorderly conduct charges. He’d set a bad example to his younger siblings. He’d all but destroyed his career, or whatever career he had left as a nearly geriatric wrestler. He’d wrecked his marriage and was now completely and utterly alone.

And Rikishi never let him forget it. 

I stuck with your mother through thick and thin. We made it work. A real man stays by his woman and never gives up. What’s your excuse? 

Rikishi’s words had never left his mind. What was his excuse? That they just couldn’t make it work? That they’d fallen out of love years ago and were just looking for a reason to end it all? That she got tired of his shitty excuses and refusal to clean up his act? 

Jimmy leaned against the bathroom door, passing a hand over his tired face. This was why he hated coming home. He couldn’t stand to see the disappointed look on his father’s face every time he looked at him, the passive-aggressive comments when his mother was around and the fiery lectures when she wasn’t. 

Maybe it wouldn’t be so painful if Rikishi wasn’t right. The truth was Jimmy had screwed it all up. He was supposed to be the oldest. Supposed to set a good example for his younger siblings and uphold their illustrious family name. Instead, he’d all but destroyed his reputation, his career, and his marriage. He was a failure. In every sense of the word. 

He stared at the letter in his hand, his eyes tracing the loopy handwriting at the bottom. 

I know it’s been a long time, but I want to see you.

Yet another failure. Except this one was meant to be buried. 

What the hell was Dani thinking by inviting him? They had both sworn to never speak of that night again. What they’d done was meant to be a secret. Jey wasn’t supposed to know. Jey could never know. 

Jimmy remembered that night all too well. He’d found her heartbroken and alone, sitting at the special spot on the beach that was only supposed to be for her and Jey. He couldn’t believe his twin had been stupid enough to let her go. And when she told him what Jey had said to her, he’d been angry. Jey had done more than broken her heart. He’d completely devastated her. 

He’d loved Dani too, in his own way, but she’d always been Jey’s girl. And when he’d found her crushed by his twin’s betrayal, he felt responsible. Jey had done this to her. His brother. His twin. And it was his job to clean up his brother’s messes. 

Jimmy hadn’t intended to sleep with her. It had just sort of happened. He’d only wanted to make her happy. To do something to dry the tears from her pretty face and see her smile again. To help her forget about Jey and his cruel words. He hadn’t meant to betray his twin and sleep with the only girl he’d ever loved. He’d just…gone too far. 

But that was the story of his life wasn’t it? He always took it too far. And he was always wrong. 

Even though her and Jey weren’t together, she was still Jey’s girl. She had always been Jey’s girl. Which is why they’d promised to never speak of it again. 

Jimmy felt his heart stutter in his chest as he re-read her note. Why would she want to see him? He could understand if she wanted to see Jey. She’d loved him. But she’d never loved Jimmy. She’d only slept with him because she was sad and lonely and probably because he reminded her of Jey. 

Jimmy reached out to trace her name at the bottom of the note. Danielle. He hadn’t seen a picture of her in years but he could still remember every inch of her pretty face. Did she really want to see him? But why? 

He remembered the look on Jey’s face when he’d read her note at the table. He’d looked shocked, his cheeks turning red. He’d seemed embarrassed, scared, and distraught all at the same time, but Jimmy had seen something else there too: hope. 

Jey still cared about her, even all these years later. Jey wanted to believe that the words in the letter were true. That she wanted to see him. That he would get a chance to apologize for the wrong he’d done to her. Jimmy knew his twin too well. 

Jimmy began to realize that he wasn’t going to be able to talk himself out of this one. He couldn’t let his twin go to Greece alone. And Jey would want him there. Jey would need him there. It would look weird if he said no, even though he’d tried to protest the best he could at the dinner table. 

Jimmy stared at the letter in his hand. Dani hadn’t just written to Jey. She’d written to him too. Did that mean she wanted to see him? Had she missed him? Did she really want to reconnect? 

Jimmy folded up the letter and put it in his jacket pocket, right next to his AA chip. He wanted to believe her words so badly. 

I want to see you.

And Jimmy wouldn’t admit it, but he wanted to see her too. 

They’d said their goodbyes shortly after dinner. It was clear that Jey had a lot on his mind, his answers clipped and his gaze absent. He hadn’t taken the letter out of his hand, folding and unfolding the paper to keep reading the note there.

Meanwhile, Jimmy had nearly sprinted out the front door, no doubt anxious to get away from his father’s scrutiny. Roman knew that Rikishi had been hard on him since the divorce and wasn’t surprised by this. It was a miracle Jimmy had even showed up at his parent’s house today at all. 

They all agreed to meet back up in Chicago, each of them on different flights and schedules. Which was fine by Roman. As much as he loved his cousins, he wasn’t eager to discuss the letters they’d received over dinner. He was still too shocked, too confused to know what to say. 

He kept his grip tight on the steering wheel as he drove to the airport, his gaze unblinking on the road ahead. 

Dani had invited him to Greece. To her daughter’s wedding. And she’d handwritten a note, specifically to him, wanting to reconnect. 

Reconnect? 

They hadn’t seen each other in nearly twenty years. He didn’t want to think about their last night together, the memory still locked away deep within the recesses of his heart. He’d promised himself that he wouldn’t think about her again. What they’d done that night had been wrong. He’d let her get too close, allowing her to penetrate the strong, composed facade he tried to project to the world. And he’d always regretted it. 

It wasn’t because he didn’t care about her. Far from it. He’d always cared about her, ever since kindergarten. She’d been the first friend he’d made. 

But that’s all they’d ever been. Friends. He’d never had the courage to ask her out, no matter how much he wanted to. His hesitance had given Jey the opportunity to swoop in and steal her heart. And he only had himself to blame. 

He had no intention of doing anything with Dani after Jey broke up with her. When he’d gone over to her house, it had been to check on her. Nothing more. He hadn’t made the first move. But he hadn’t stopped it either. 

Roman’s knuckles were blanched from how hard he was gripping the steering wheel. He didn’t want to think about this. He didn’t want to remember. 

Please come. I’ll be waiting.

Roman remembered the words in her letter. There was once a time when he would have been overjoyed to hear them. But that was a long time ago. He’d been a different man then. 

Was this a bad idea? Originally he had agreed to go for Jey. Roman knew he needed closure after the horrible breakup they had. And maybe Mama was right. Maybe Dani would be single and Jey would get another chance to mend things with her. Roman knew he still carried a torch for her, even all these years later. And Roman wanted to be supportive. 

Because that’s who he was now. He was supportive. He was kind. He was understanding. He didn’t fall in love with his cousin’s girl. He didn’t sleep with his cousin’s girl behind his back. He didn’t hurt the people he loved and make excuses for it. 

Roman made up his mind. 

He was going to do this for Jey. He was going to go to Greece and be supportive. He was going to put his own feelings to the side and be the good older cousin that he was supposed to be. Besides, he didn’t have any feelings about this. Dani was just someone he knew from school. She meant nothing to him. He didn’t care about her. He didn’t love her. 

He didn’t. 

next: chapter 2: i've been waiting for you

previous: prologue: i have a dream

besties: @acute-crashout-jeyuso @mindairy @amandairene88 @askullasunflower @partypoison00 @brianochka @femdisa @zephyrazzz @scorpiochaos @gardencottage @minteagalaxea @annyanse @nbanenefrmdao @wishyouloveme @glittergirl7 @bloodline-fanacc @key05marie @mzv11 @neytiri-20 @ayeeeitsmiracle @buttercup0024 @punksyeet @pr0wlerpunk @lilucey @cassrox @cosmiccandydreamer @sarlaccussy @fearlesschimera @hadesorion @rollinssection @levissslutt @mingisfavgf @aaira3333 @thealliasylum @marababyyyy @transparentphantomface @eringobragh420 @tssweets @kelbrave @astria0wwe @fairiebabey @romanreignsbae @mandmilovehim @briabrae @psilovey0u @80sredroad @ajenae @dumb-b4mbi @4milly @m00nlitnight @terrortwinunicorn

[luna--dragon]

Okay, so I've seen a lot of new Gravity Falls art since The Book of Bill came out, and every so often someone draws Ford with this tattoo:

Translation: If lost, return to Bill

It's unclear whether he actually got it tattooed or not, but that's not what I'm here to talk about (Personally, I think it's an incredible source of angst and will be adding it to future fics and art)

I'm bringing this up because I want to know where you guys think it would be? A lot of people have put it on the back of his neck or between his shoulder blades, but I've seen a few pieces of art where it spirals around his neck, kind of like a collar. When paired with the translation it's so fucked and I love it.

If it is canon, then it definitely wouldn't be there (because he already has the star tattoo on the back of his neck) but that idea is incredible, and I need more fics about it.

[theotherrookie]

"Yes! And maybe a telemarketer too!"

Willow decided not to question how Erica planned to recognize such a person in the wild. It was always wise not to get in the way of her vengeful plots.

"Well, I must treasure the experiences of my older siblings." Willow replied, before adding, "Or that of a twin."

It was nice to hear Simon speak fondly of Truman. The brothers trying to get along was especially heartwarming, considering the horrid adults they had to live with while growing up. Willow hoped the future would keep looking up for all of them.

Her train of thought was disturbed by Lucien's laugh when he was hugged again. She really couldn't recall him ever being that happy. But with someone like Russell as a partner, it wasn't surprising.

"You are forgiven." Lucien replied softly, "Let's go commit some property damage."

"We could do that! I missed out on a lot of movies, so it shouldn't be hard to pick one." Erica smiled as the crane started sinking into the abyss, "Well, I guess we'll just have to find the keys. I really hope it wasn't in his pockets though."

"It wouldn't be such a loss. Red muscle cars are statically a sign of the early onset of midlife crisis." Willow noted, following after Erica.

"Does it mean we should repaint it before we let Antonio drive it?"

"We should do so regardless." Willow replied, "Then I will fabricate the necessary documents."

While this hideout wasn't as organized as the previous one, there was still enough equipment lying around to confirm that Five and his thugs had been camping out there for a while. Other than his car, his brewing kit had been left behind, along with a modest collection of books. Some tomes were rather old, while others were most recent editions.

Either way, none of it really caught Erica's attention, who was more fond of shiny things. Lucien, on the other hand, knew where to start from with his task.

"I just know where we should start from." he said, while pointing at the kit. That accursed brewery of horrors had to go.

Rook made sure to hold on tight as well as they ascended. Without the adrenaline and the heat of the fight keeping her distracted, she was suddenly awfully aware of how high up they were.

The task at hand was simple enough, though. So she felt like that was a good time for a chat. "Hey, Bill. There's something I'd like to talk about..."

Frosty stopped his pitiful escape when he heard voices around him. He let out an annoyed grunt when he was grabbed, but otherwise didn't have enough fight left in him to make himself a problem. Not when he couldn't even stand upright without the room spinning around him.

Veronica's eyes turned red and she immediately took note of the ice mage's paleness, along with his rather absent look. Frosty was awake, but he was likely experiencing a major case of brain fog. They'd have to be gentle with him. Even the slightest stress could aggravate his conditions.

"Well, he mainly needs to rest, but I'd rather keep an eye on him for a few hours. There is no telling how his body will recoil from Five's drugs and the draining." the ghost lady said, before spraying Frosty with a potion that vaguely smelled like rosemary and thyme, "This is just to make him safe to handle, in case the snake's poison has some delayed effects we don't know about."

Frosty only briefly raised his head for a moment, mumbling a complain before he finally found his words. "...not going home. They don't want me."

"We've dealt with Five. We can now focus on other threats to public peace."

"Erica has been clashing with a few inconsiderate cyclists lately." Willow explained, leaning on the drone like one would rest on somebody's shoulder, "And you're correct. Her personal view of the world is unique and provides insight that I simply don't have access to."

And it further proved that her elven counterpart had nothing to envy to the rest of them. Erica was just as brilliant, despite her peculiar methods.

"Well, this was a learning experience overall." the cyborg declared, watching Russell and Lucien. The half fae had never been one for such public displays. Yet, they had witnessed him fight Five all on his own.

"I know. You were simply trying to save the world." Lucien replied with a warm smile, "Likewise, I've been trying to defend mine."

One almost wouldn't expect him to still be so mushy after all that, though.

"It is funny!" Erica smiled at Russell as he retrieved his baseballs, then focused on dispelling her shadow tails. Her original one was enough to venture out in the city.

Another ribbon was dutifully tied to it. Erica then turned around to stare up at the crane, hands on her hips as she pondered a thought.

"You know, we shouldn't let this go to waste." the elf said, pointing at the vehicle, "I mean, we might need it if we're going to renovate the club."

Willow chuckled, "You've set your sights on it since we got here, have you?"

"I've never stolen construction equipment before!"

"See if you can find Five's equipment too. He's rich, so I bet he's been playing around with some cool stuff." Rook said.

Willow nodded, "If we find any valuable books, I'll be sure to notify you."

Rook seemed satisfied with the answer. She would get something nice out of this too while Erica disappeared everything that wasn't nailed down to the void.

"Alright." She looked up to locate what she thought could have been a way to access the roof. "Are we doing it the same way again?"

In that case, she was ready to climb on Bill's shoulders.

"Let us be on our way, then." Veronica took the lead, walking at a steady pace now that the gas had dispersed.

Frosty was exactly where she expected, stuck in the trap they had left by the entrance and seemed to be currently trying to quietly wiggle out of there like a battered light blue caterpillar.

Veronica rolled her eyes at the scene, then pulled a spray bottle out of her bag. "Five was able to take quite a bit from him. Let's free him up and check his general condition."

[meylovesmusic]

1-800- BÍTEME calling with an inquiry!

What is Ni-ki’s ideal girl to go out on a date with?

DIALING...

thank you for calling 1-800-BITEME, vampire hotline. concerning your inquiry:

8 of wands • knight of pentacles • 5 of wands

in a short term context, it seems like our vampire has a type, so I'll break it down in two sections: astrology and tarot.

2 of the 3 cards drawn happened to be fire cards as wands in tarot are often tied to the element. specifically sagittarius and leo. our second card was an earth card, specifically capricorn. in my opinion as an astrology girlie who does tarot, I have a feeling that riki would gravitate towards fellow fire signs (fire signs are most compatible with other fire signs in all honesty) with lots of earth signs in their birth chart. given the type of card our capricorn card is, I would even go as far as to assume he'd naturally gravitate towards someone or eventually end up with someone who has capricorn in venus.

now getting into the actual cards:

8 of wands is a travel-oriented card, full of excitement, vacations, holiday romance, spontaneity, and progress. our vampire may be the type to engage in short term romance while on the road, or someone who goes into things when passion strikes (very sagittarius of him).

our knight of pentacles gives us insight that he'd probably actually prefer a long term relationship. it's a card of routine, and he'd probably feel naturally inclined towards a romance that's with someone patient, practical, and very loyal--someone he can trust and maybe playfully butt heads with.

however, our 5 of wands also points to short term relationships not working out for riki. it's the card of conflict and fighting, clashing egos, arguments, and chaos. while the idea of dating around seems like it could work, it looks like our vampire needs someone to be his rock and understand him.

~

the moon + confirmation cards (as mentioned)

second little reading that made a bit more context here! in a previous reading I found myself asking the cards what kind of person would be riki's ideal match, essentially his soulmate if you boil it down.

initially I pulled the moon, and immediately got the vibe that our vampire very likely could end up with a natural intuitive. however, this individual may also have some anxiety or insecurity since the moon has its dark sides too. in confirming if someone like this is riki's ideal match, the hierophant came up: the card of tradition and marriage. marriage in particular stood out as to me it sort of confirmed that this person is riki's person.

I also got 2 cards when I asked if the moon represented more about this person or riki in any way. we got the 8 of wands once again, as well as the hermit. I came to the idea that it's likely that riki meets his soulmate or ideal match while traveling abroad (and likely for the partner as well). while our vampire may be traveling for work or relaxation, his ideal partner may be the one doing some soul searching or getting some sort of enlightenment out of the experience.

when finally confirming that this all added up, I pulled the knight of pentacles (again) and the 3 of pentacles. with wands and pentacles being our predominant arcana showing up in this reading, it's incredibly likely our vampire would be happiest with a fire sign whom has very grounded earthy qualities. I'd reference the same reading for knight of pentacles as before as I'm getting the same vibe. 3 of pentacles gives me similar vibes, with themes of dedication and teamwork. however, we also get the insight that riki's future partner could be someone within the creative industry without being in the spotlight. someone he can collaborate with who has great attention to detail, resulting in growing success from something of great quality they made together.

while nothing is entirely clear, my romance readings tend to fall on the more accurate side, so take it as you will. it's likely that similar to my readings for heeseung, riki won't be pursuing a relationship at this point in their career.

we hope your desires have been fulfilled. •••

🔖 @cigsaftersuh @itzzzzzzyyyyydaaaaa

from mey ♡ this ask has two sections, one pertaining to the original question and another set with cards from a confirmation question I asked that was basically the same topic! enjoy a longer one (⁠✿⁠^⁠‿⁠^⁠)

[white-hole-station]

Thing about EotE that makes me need to go lie down:

The Owlks arrived before the Nomai, and the Nomai arrived a six digit number of years ago compared to the canon present.

The Owlks arrived tens of thousands of years before the sun would explode, and the Eye showed them their doom, and they were so despairing and afraid that they decided whatever time they had left before it was no longer worth living.

If they hadn't been so thoroughly devastated, if they had found it within themselves to stay on the Stranger outside of the dream world and see what a future could still look like, their species would have had more time left than the entire evolutionary history of the sentient Hearthians. They would have invented new instruments, and lived long enough to entirely forget when and how they were invented. They would themselves have evolved, gaining adaptations better suited to living on the Stranger than on their home planet. The Stranger would have been added to and improved - they could have cycled between different planetary systems harvesting more materials if they needed to, and their technology would have progressed to make it faster and more efficient. They would have had generations left to live full lives, generations left to be born and taught more and more gently about what is to come, and come to terms with it. They could have had such a beautiful culture still, one of music and art and acceptance of the value of life and beauty even if it has to be temporary. Maybe they could have even recognized the Eye as an artist like themselves, waiting to make them into something new, and it could have been their object of worship and comfort again.

I don't blame them for what they did, especially given the raw horror of having gutted their home planet to seek this thing that told them it would destroy them. I understand it, but it is such a deeper tragedy than it ever was before to me, after realizing just how much time they had left to live.

[punkrockmlchael]

Meet Me At Our Spot

Masterlist | Fred Hechinger Characters Masterlist

Customer: @spookyscarydemonbabe

Order: double scoop cookies and cream in a cup with peanut butter cups

Ingredients: 18+ mdni, Fem!Reader x Jason Hochberg, Fluff, Secretly Dating, Pre-Established Relationship, Confident!Jason, Smut: Making Out and Kissing and Smooching (While kind of ranting about your day), Biting (Playfully and some hickies may be left), Jason just wants to make you feel good, Oral (Fem Receiving), Fingering, Cum Eating

Total: $13.08 (1308 words)

Order note from the scooper (Jason): "Hi, beautiful! Thank you for your order! Here's your double scoop of cookies and cream ice cream in a cup with peanut butter cups! Please, come back soon and get some more ice cream from us! Your flavor combinations are the best and we look forward to serving you again in the future!”

Check out our ice cream parlor here!!

the biggest thank you to @robinbuckleywife , @glassbxttless , @peachyproserpina , @the-witty-pen-name and @keeryhours for reading this over for me! my literal favorites

Meet Me At Our Spot. 9pm. - Jason

The folded piece of paper was tucked under your pillow meticulously, hidden in plain sight. Jason didn’t even need to sign his name on the note, you knew his handwriting the moment you opened it. The slightly slanted and sprawled out letters connecting carefully in all the wrong spots. It was a miracle you could read it, honestly.

A smile formed on your face as you folded the paper back up carefully, stuffing it into your back pocket. A quick check of the time and a small lie to your bunkmates (something about wanting to take a walk to clear your head) and you were on your way.

The sun was still setting in the distance, the stars slowly beginning to peak out from their hiding. Of course, you didn’t need that extra bit of daylight to make it to your spot, you had made this walk almost daily for countless summers. The spot you and Jason had found when you first met at Camp Pineway years ago was now your safe haven—the one place you and Jason could go and be on your own with no watchful eyes, no campers or counselors picking up on your feelings and no interruptions.

The spot you and Jason had claimed as your own. Your spot.

You glanced at your watch, checking the time before stepping over a tree root, moving deeper into the woods. A quick look around to make sure no one was around before you moved into the small makeshift fort you and Jason had built a few summers ago.

Jason looked up at you, smiling as you kneeled down beside him on the soft blanket he had brought. “Hey, beautiful,” he mumbled, taking hold of your hand gently to help you move into his lap. “I missed you,” he sighed, his hands moving to your hips gently.

“I missed you too,” you replied, arms wrapping around his neck. “Barely got to see you today,” you added, kissing his lips softly.

“Yeah,” he sighed, his lips moving against yours softly before he kissed down your jaw and neck. “Stupid archery kept me busy all day long,” Jason mumbled as he left soft kisses on your neck.

You giggled at the feeling, his lips and beard both tickling your skin slightly. Your head moved to the side, giving him more access to your neck as his hands moved up and down your sides. “It’s fine,” you replied, your fingers playing with the hair on the back of his neck slowly. You tugged on the blonde locks gently, your fingers curling around his hair. “I was super busy today too. Shannon and Claire would not leave me alone and somehow I ended up doing way more work than I signed up for.”

“I’m sorry, baby,” he muttered into your neck, his hands moving up under your shirt gently. His rough fingers moved against the soft and plush skin of your stomach, toying with the hem of your sweatpants. “Maybe I can help you get your mind off of it?” He asked, pulling away to look at you. He placed a couple soft kisses on your lips, waiting for a reply.

“Yes, please,” you nodded, kissing him softly. Jason shifted from underneath you, laying you down on the blanket carefully. He hovered over you, kissing your lips again before he lifted your shirt up slowly. Kissing down your stomach, he stopped at the hem of your sweatpants.

“Can I take these off?” He asked softly, tugging at the fabric when you nodded slightly.

“Please,” you sighed, moving your hips up gently to help him maneuver the sweatpants off easier. Jason pulled them down with your panties, tossing them to the side before he kissed up and down your thighs.

“Eager, are we?” He looked up at you, spreading your legs apart slightly.

“Always eager for you,” you mumbled, your fingers finding his hair again. He smiled softy, leaving more kisses on your inner thighs before he placed a soft kiss on your clit gently.

“Good, that’s what I like to hear, baby,” he said, looking up at you. He licked a long stripe up your folds, relishing in the gasp and moan that left your mouth as he did.

“Jason,” you moaned, your fingers wrapping around his locks tighter. “Hm, god,” you mumbled, looking down at him. He glanced up at you, licking another long stripe up your folds carefully. He pulled away slightly, softly blowing some air in your clit before his lips wrapped around your sensitive skin, sucking softly. “You’re a tease,” you groaned, your hips moving up gently.

Jason chuckled, the sensation shooting pleasure through your body. “Me? A tease?” He questioned, leaving soft kisses on your inner thighs as his fingers moved towards your core. His pointer finger and middle finger moved up and down your folds before slowly pushing into you. “I would never tease you, baby girl,” he muttered, his teeth sinking down into the skin of your inner thigh.

You groaned loudly, tugging on his hair. “Jason,” you mumbled, “I thought we had agreed on no marks?”

“Relax,” he smirked, sucking on the skin gently before he pulled away and blew on it. “No one will see that, it’s on your inner thigh,” he commented, his fingers moving to pump in and out of you. “I am the only one that’ll get to see that mark, promise.” His lips moved across your skin again, finding another spot to mark up.

“It’s too risky,” you mumbled, making no effort to stop him. “Like, what if someone asks about it?”

“Then you lie,” he shrugged, his fingers pumping faster. He curled them slightly, looking up at you as he did. He didn’t miss the gasp that left you or the moan that came from your mouth. “Say you tripped or something stupid. Maybe it’s a bug bite?”

“It’s not a bug bite,” you mumbled, tugging on his hair. “It’s a Jason bite.”

“Guilty!” He grinned, winking at you before he placed another kiss on your clit. His lips wrapped around your clit again, sucking softly while his fingers pumped in and out of you faster, curling every other pump.

“Jason,” you moaned, pushing his head down more with your hands. “Fuck, if you keep doing that, I’m gonna cum,” you whined, your hips moving against his fingers.

He groaned against you, his fingers moving faster as he felt you move against them. “Shit,” he mumbled, sucking on your clit harder. “Come on, baby, forget about today. Forget about everything, cum for me.” He said, kissing over your lower stomach gently.

His fingers moved deeper, hitting your sweet spot as they curled perfectly. Your grip on his hair tightened as you tugged, your hips moving up again as you clenched around his fingers. You moaned his name loudly, releasing around his fingers as your back arched off the ground.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you groaned, your eyes closing as you fell back against the ground a with a soft thud.

Jason pulled his fingers out of you gently, bringing them to his mouth. He wrapped his lips around them and sucked them off, groaning at the taste of you. “Fuck, baby girl,” he mumbled, moving back down to your core. He licked a long stripe, up your folds again, collecting all the juices you had released on his tongue. “You taste so good,” he moaned.

You whined softly, your fingers finding his shirt collar. You tugged him up, smiling when he hovered over you again. You kissed his lips, groaning as you tasted yourself on them. “Hm, Jason?” You mumbled, pulling away slightly to look up at him.

“Yeah?”

“I love you.”

He smiled, a soft and gentle one as his fingers ran through your hair carefully. “I love you too.”

jason hochberg taglist: wanna join? click the form here! ; @janis01127 ; @keeryhours ; @iitsmandii ; @bumblebeeswrite ; @alexa0813 ; @samslvrgirl ; @littlemissholy ; @robinbuckleywife ; @yearsbecomingcool ; @spookyscarydemonbabe ; @fallout-girl219 ; @cheesesandwichsanto

[izels-writing]

j. potter — how forever feels! [6/7]

Pairing: james potter x hopeless romantic!fem! reader

Summary: the stars have aligned and you and james' futures have intertwined.

Warnings: fake dating!!, ANGST, james and peter argue, james’ pov for certain scenes, lowk ooc peter now that i think abt it, REDEMPTION ARC FOR A CERTAIN CHARACTER, i’m just now realizing how american my dialogue is WHOOPS, let me know if i miss any warnings!!

PART ONE - PART TWO - PART THREE - PART FOUR — PART FIVE — PART SIX

a/n; can we talk abt the real love story that is peter and b/f/n 🥹 ALSO this is the second to last part 😈

Taglist: @hisparentsgallerryy @ilovejamespottersomuch @eli-com @froggiedragon @butterflygxril @d1lf-loverrr @lupinsweater @maraudersgirlie @lovelyygirl8 @hellokitty-girl666 @ttheosloverr @whyucloudingmymind @kissmxcheek

let me know if u want to be added!!

you ate another spoonful of ice cream, wiping your eyes as you read your romance book. it was sweet and heart wrenching at the same time. your head only turned away from your book as b/f/n entered the room happily. but at the sight of you, she frowned in concern.

"you haven't moved since i left?" she asked softly, walking over to sit at the foot of your bed across from you.

"i did!" you insisted, holding the ice cream up.

it had been two weeks since you'd 'broken' up with james. at which when you came back crying, you explained the entire situation to b/f/n. she had understood ultimately and hadn't told anyone. even peter, who she'd recently starting seeing.

"to get ice cream," she replied pointedly. she pulled your book from your hand, throwing it onto her own bed. "you're torturing yourself, y/n!"

you shook your head. "whatever, how was your date?" you asked curiously, smiling assuringly.

b/f/n smiled. "it was...amazing. everything i'd ever dreamed of," she whispered, lying back in the bed—with the biggest smile you'd ever seen on her.

"we went star gazing, had some snacks," she smiled, shaking her head. "he's so funny, y/n, like unbelievably funny,"

you laughed and nodded. "yeah, peter definitely has jokes,"

she rolled her body, propping her head up to look at you. "he said james' been in a funk since...you know," she commented casually, fidgeting with your duvet.

"he'll get over it," you replied, taking another spoonful of ice cream into your mouth. "lily will go out with him soon enough," you avoided b/f/n's expectant gaze.

she sighed. "sweetie, you know i love you more than words can describe and i hate james for what he did to you,"

you looked up at her, raising an eyebrow. "but...?"

"but, i really do think you need to talk to him. get some closure, for both of you. this isn't doing you any good. you—the most driven person i know—doesn't get up unless you run out of ice cream and he hasn't pranked anyone in weeks—pranks, y/n!" she insisted.

you shook your head. you wanted nothing more than to talk to james. but you were also self-aware. the second he apologized to you and gave you that soft, loving look—you'd fall for it again. at the end of the day, he loved lily. and you, as much as you didn't say it, wanted someone who would only love you. that's what was in all the romance books...right?

"i can't, b/f/n, i just can't okay?" you muttered, shaking your head. "can we just drop it?" 

b/f/n sighed and sat up. "fine, wanna have a spa night?" she looked at you up and down. "cause you need it,"

you furrowed your brows. "that was hurtful,"

b/f/n raised her brows. "it is, but it's also the truth,"

you sighed. "yeah, yeah..."

——

james lied back on the couch in the common room, staring at the ceiling as he tossed the snitch up and caught it. over and over. he hadn't done his homework and truthfully, he didn't want to do his homework.

he wanted to talk to you.

lily walked over, a small smile on her face. she sat on the coffee table in front of him and tilted her head. "you alright?" she asked.

james, at her presence, suddenly smile and nodded. "yeah, i'm alright. where are you coming from?" he asked.

"double herbology, which is a pain," she sighed. "what're you doing here all by yourself?"

he shrugged. "just thinking,"

lily chuckled. "sounds inquisitive...so, listen..." she cleared her throat, suddenly looking rather serious.

james turned to her, giving her his full attention. he had liked lily for ages, he knew that. he felt something for her, he knew that too. the time they'd been spending together was fun. but it felt different than before. when his crush had been at its height.

"do you want to go to hogsmeade...with me? this saturday?" she asked shyly, offering a kind smile.

james smiled kindly. "yeah, of course, lily—i'd love to," he answered automatically, even though, no he really didn't feel like it.

"great! it's a date," she smiled softly. "i'll see you saturday then,"

but suddenly, she looked up and her face went solemn—almost guilty looking. james furrowed his brows and sat up, following her gaze. his face dropped as he saw what she had seen.

there you were—walking past them, tears in your eyes. james felt an indescribable pain in his chest at the sight, he wanted to follow you and talk to you. but his legs would not move, his mouth would not speak, and his chest just hurt. when he turned around to face lily, she had stood up and walked off and looked just as conflicted herself.

james lied back on the couch and frowned, feeling absolutely awful.

——

"are you alright?" b/f/n asked, watching as you moved your dinner around on your plate.

you hadn't been hungry, and the first time you actually step foot outside of your dorm to eat dinner with everyone else, you had overheard lily asking james on a date.

talk about luck, right?

"lily asked james on a date," you muttered. b/f/n sighed and placed a comforting hand on yours.

"i'm sorry, y/n," she mumbled.

you shrugged. "it's fine, am i hurt? yes, but it's the first step to getting over it. i'll be okay,"

b/f/n was not as easily convinced, but she dropped it and you both sat there in silence. a howl of laughter caught both of your attention, coming from sirius.

that was certainly one thing you missed about being with james, not just james himself, but the boys you had begun to call friends too. you knew you shouldn't have gotten close, knowing it was all temporary, but how could you not? they were the best lot you had ever been around.

"you can sit with peter, you know," you told her reassuringly, smiling softly at b/f/n. "i'm not going to wither away from eating dinner alone,"

"no, no," b/f/n chuckled. "pete and i talked about it. lunch is our time, every other time, i'm spending it with you the same way he spends it with james—i'm not very fond of him anyway,"

you knew that was certainly a lie. b/f/n had grown close to james, like the others, since her breakup with benjamin. especially whenever the three of you hung out after b/f/n had wallowed for days. james and b/f/n had developed their own dynamic and you knew she considered him a friend.

"i know you guys are friends, you don't have to stop on my account," you assured, smiling softly at her.

b/f/n met your eyes and smiled warmly. "you were my friend first, and you are the best person i've ever met, I wouldn't trade that for anybody—not even james or pete," she told you seriously.

"that's weirdly intimate," you chuckled. emotional connections were not your strongest forte, even though you desperately wanted them to be. "i love you too," you assured.

b/f/n smiled at you brightly.

——

when saturday rolled around, james fretted over every last detail. should he try to comb his hair back? no, you liked his hair messy. but lily was not you. should he buy flowers? live flowers died much to quickly in your care and made you sad. but lily was not you. should he wear something casual? you liked his more casual looks, often complimenting him constantly. but lily was not you. but most of all, you liked james exactly as he was. would lily?

james consulted with marlene, who knew lily best. she had advised him of things that, for lack of a better word, were uncomfortable to james. she liked specific flowers, casual but nice attire, gentleman attributes, someone who could stimulate her intellectually, someone who didn't smell too overpowering. james didn't want to disappoint lily. but he also had no idea how to please her.

james shook his head, palming his face. "i can't go, can't do this..." he huffed.

"then don't," peter replied shortly. sirius smacked his chest and remus gave peter a disapproving look.

"mate, you've dream of this day since you met lily, it'll be fine!" sirius assured. was he used to not having you around? no, he missed you dearly. but he had to be supportive of james—his brother.

"james, she likes you, it'll go fine," remus assured. he too missed you, but james was his best friend. he couldn't not support him.

now, peter was the only one not hiding his true feelings. but he had that tendency. he was honest, brutally honest and always said how he felt. which was surprising, given he practically worshipped his friends. but he wouldn't shy away when it came to stuff like this. b/f/n had told him all about how you were doing, and while he'd never share it with any of them, he wouldn't blindly support james either. b/f/n had had that influence.

"wormy?" james asked hopefully.

peter looked at him. "i don't think you should go," he replied curtly. sirius and remus turned to him in surprise.

"what? why?" james asked.

peter shook his head. "would you listen if i even told you? sirius and remus are right, you like lily. a lot." he replied.

"but...?" james pressed.

peter took a deep breath. "honestly, i think you like y/n more. no, sorry, i think you love her. lily is an infatuation; someone you were obsessed with because you couldn't have her. y/n, you actually spent time with and got to know her. she laughed at your jokes, even though they were stupid and not funny. if anything, maybe i'm hoping you love her, because if you used her as an ego-boost, i would be disappointed—"

"i would never do that to her!" james replied angrily. peter's words had clearly struck a nerve. "i...i would never,"

"then why are you up lily's arse?!" peter exclaimed back. "you had a perfectly good girl in front of you and you chose the girl who didn't give you the time of day until this year!"

sirius and remus looked at each other in shock. peter hardly fought with any of them, let alone said the things he was saying now. he was easy going and agreed with stuff more often than not. to see him stand up to james? it was groundbreaking.

"you don't know what you're talking about!" james exclaimed back. "she broke up with me, remember?!"

peter chuckled humorlessly. "really? is that what you want to go with? james, the second lily started coming up to you for help, you were lost. lily is great, but y/n? she was great for you." he said, poking james' chest.

peter shook his head. "it's terrible to me that you can't see that."

before james could say anything else, peter left. he slammed the door behind him and went merlin-knows-where. sirius and remus looked at james, who looked rather upset.

"i have to meet lily soon, i'll see you both later," james muttered, avoiding their gaze. james didn't need to look at them to know they agreed with peter.

and james left.

as soon as he met with lily, james' spirits had lifted slightly. he smiled at her and talked adamantly with her, ensuring in saying all the right things marlene had advised him about it. but it felt...strange. wrong.

they walked to the carriages together, side by side, but james couldn't help the feeling of wanting distance between them. before, he would've jumped at the chance of them being this close. but ever since you, he didn't want to be that close with anyone else.

but that had to be after affects of a breakup, right?

"and i was telling my cousin about how childish pranks are—" lily began, speaking of some incident with her cousin that james had only been half-listening to.

"you think pranks are childish?" james interjected.

"uh..yeah, i do," lily admitted. "which is why i was glad you had stopped doing them,"

"but they're fun. obviously not the ones that hurt people, but harmless pranks are fun," james insisted, a small smile on his face. "like, this one time the lads and i turned marlene's hair pink and she went around the whole day with pink hair,"

lily chuckled. "i remember...i dunno, i just think it's obnoxious," she shrugged. "but agree to disagree right?"

james nodded, though he didn't quite agree with that either. you laughed at all his pranks, even the immature ones. obviously not at the ones he used to do, when he was a bully, but the new ones? the immature and childish ones that were harmless? you laughed and even helped him with some of them.

lily quickly launched into her story about her cousin again, not noticing james' slightest shift in mood. how could she have?

she didn't seem to know him at all.

——

you and b/f/n giggled to yourselves as you picked up a greeting card with some corny line printed on it. she had dragged you to hogsmeade and while you were not in the mood, you figured it would be a better way to spend the day than holed up in your room. you only hoped james and lily wouldn't bump into you.

peter had joined you guys too and it gave you a strange sense of deja vu. except, this time, the roles were reversed.

"b/f/n? do you want this?" peter asked, holding up a small vase that held quills. it was beautiful decorated and really seemed like something b/f/n would own. she had picked it up earlier but decided she didn't have  enough money for it.

"oh, yeah i did, but i don't have enough," she chuckled, crouching down to put the greeting card back.

you and peter looked at each other and you nodded, smiling softly at him. he smiled back and went over to the cashier counter, buying it while she was distracted.

b/f/n stood up again, turning to you and then to look at peter but found he was gone. quickly, you dragged her off to some corner of the store and distracted her, when you bumped into someone on accident.

you turned to apologize, but your soft smile quickly fell. b/f/n's face quickly dropped.

"oh, hey guys," benjamin replied nervously. "how are you guys?"

"let's just go," you told b/f/n, noticing her angry look.

"no, listen, wait! i want to apologize!" benjamin insisted. but he certainly didn't try to touch you after last time.

you rolled your eyes and b/f/n scoffed, but he sighed. "what i did was fucked up, okay? i should've never put either of you through that. especially you, b/f/n, i'm sorry i was a terrible boyfriend and an even worse friend..." he said sincerely.

you kept your stony face, but b/f/n sighed and nodded. "okay, apology accepted..." she replied kindly. "i know now that we didn't belong together and peter is the best boyfriend and being mad at you? it just seems pointless, now y/n? she has every right to be mad at you,"

you noticed his sincere nature and his pleading eyes. you groaned. "fine, i also accept your apology. i guess at the end of the day, you were right, james was making googly eyes at lily..." you shrugged.

benjamin let out a sigh of relief. "oh thank god, thank you...i miss you two and i know this doesn't mean we'll be friends again, but i'm really hoping we will eventually," he replied hopefully.

you chuckled and b/f/n smiled softly. "we'll certainly think about it. . .bye," you replied with a small laugh before dragging her away and out of the store where peter was waiting.

"everything alright? i heard you guys talking in there, sort of," peter smiled. b/f/n grinned at him and kissed his cheek.

"everything's perfect," she smiled.

but your eyes had drifted and noticed lily and james enter the three broomsticks. james had kept the door open for her and as she walked in, his eyes met yours. he looked...upset when he saw you. you quickly turned away.

"can we do? i'm a little cold," you mumbled, despite the early march air.

b/f/n and peter looked confused but nodded anyway and continued to lead the way, oblivious to your mood. you followed behind them, wondering what james' sad look was about. he got what he wanted, didn't he?

——

any hope that james had of enjoying this date was gone. he wasn't enjoying it much to begin with, but seeing you was the icing on the cake. he missed you. missed your regular dates and your conversations. with lily it wasn't the same and the more time he spent with her, the more he came to the realization that should've smacked him in the face a long time ago.

he liked lily, sure. but as a friend.

she was easy to talk to and funny, but she was only good as a friend. they weren't compatible. and his idea of being with her was just that, an idea that should've never come to life to begin with.

lily did not understand his love for quidditch. she thought the sport was rather violent. she did not enjoy transfiguration like he did. she did not see the joy in blowing off steam. she was straight to the point and always working. she didn't understand james' weird quirks, like hating the color green but loving the color of the lawn at home. she didn't understand him.

moreover, she did not laugh the way you did. she did not smile with the same happiness you did. she did not believe in the same notions you did. she did not enjoy the corny jokes he made. she did not roll her eyes but laugh at his flirty jokes either. she was nothing like you. you were funny and lovely and all the good things in the dictionary—you were warm and soft and somehow closed off and tough at the same time.

james didn't understand you the way he should, but he certainly wanted to spend the rest of his life trying to.

"james? are you alright?" lily asked, interrupting his thoughts.

james lifted his gaze from his butterbeer, where the foam had oddly started to resemble your face. maybe he was going crazy.

"i made a mistake," he blurted. lily furrowed her brows in confusion.

"i think you're wicked, lily, i really do," james replied kindly. "but i think the more we grew up, the more i've started to see you as a friend..."

lily smiled softly and nodded. "yeah...i sort of started to see that today," she replied kindly. "and i do like you, james. it took me a long time to see it, but i can tell you're in love with y/n,"

"really?" james asked.

"definitely," lily chuckled. "i think that's why i felt so guilty asking you on a date but i just couldn't let the chance pass by, i needed to know for sure...i suppose,"

james smiled sadly. "i'm really sorry, lily, i didn't mean to lead you on like this,"

lily chuckled. "don't worry about it, james—i'll bounce back, i'm lily evans," she joked. but it was more than a joke. it was a reassurance that james didn't have to feel bad.

"i really hope we can still be friends," james added.

lily nodded. "absolutely, i'd like that."

——

a few hours later, james had returned to his dorm and the three of them waited for peter to make his way back. mostly to apologize, he had had a point but the rest of them had dismissed it like they usually did. not to mention, james needed advice from peter—now more than ever. 

peter entered the dorm, shrugging his coat off and stopping in his tracks at the sight of his three friends staring at him. especially james, who had been angry at him earlier, who was now looking at him apologetically. 

"was i gone for that long?" peter asked, a teasing tone in his voice despite him still being upset with james. 

james stood up. "wormy, i'm so sorry i didn't listen. i was just obsessed with this version of lily in my head, i was so stupid. you were right and now i've lost y/n! i just didn't know when i started this that i'd fall in love with her!' james blurted. 

the other three boys exchanged looks. james hadn't said much since his return, just that his date with lily had been lousy. this bit of information had been a surprise to them all. 

"started what, prongs?" sirius asked sternly, crossing his arms. all three of them focused their eyes on james expectantly. 

james sighed and covered his face. "you'll laugh at me," james said, though muffled. 

"not anymore than we already have," remus retorted, shrugging as james glared at him. 

"okay, y/n had these letters mailed on accident to each boy she has ever loved. when i got mine, she kissed me but only to distract benjamin who had also gotten a letter. at the time, b/f/n and benjamin were still dating. i was still trying to get lily to like me. so, y/n and i devised a...plan where we'd pretend to date to get benjamin off her back and get lily jealous so she'd like me! but then during winter break, things got serious!" james blurted, taking a deep breath after his rambled on explanation. "you three cannot tell anyone! y/n would hate me even more than she already does!" 

all three boys were at a loss for words, blinking at james as he awaited their responses. peter, however, looked the least shocked. though b/f/n hadn't explicitly said it, she implied something of this sort when they were talking about y/n and james.

"oh, wow, you're dumber than i thought," sirius laughed. "you seriously thought this would work without any consequences?"

james furrowed his brows. "but it did..."

"no, it didn't, you twat! you're in love with her!' remus exclaimed. "and now you have to find a way to win her back!"

"it's no use, lads," james said, shaking his head as he threw himself on remus' bed. "she doesn't want me back," 

peter finally spoke up. "yes, she does," 

james looked at him hopefully. "really? did she say that? what specifically did she say?" he asked pleadingly. 

peter weighed his thoughts for a moment. "okay, not in so many words, but she misses you, prongs. i think if you truly apologize and make it up to her, she'll forgive you..." 

james grinned. "so you're saying if i come up with a plan, she'll take me back? wormy, you're a genius!" james sat up and kisses peter's forehead, despite the smaller boys protest. then, just as quickly, he left the dorm. 

peter sighed. "i meant he needs to talk to her..."

remus shook his head. "he has the comprehension skills of a goat..."

[carpesabrina]

“Not exactly in those words. I think he’s more worried that she won’t want to. Or that he’ll get hurt if he proposes. Take him ring shopping, maybe when he sees the one, he’ll realize.” She knew that eventually the pair would end up tying the knot. But it was just figuring out the when. Regardless of what Sarah wanted, she was also happy with her life currently. She smiled as he cupped her cheek and confirmed that their kids wouldn’t need to be jewish. “I had a lot of time to think about how I wanted us to raise our kids,” she said softly as she reached up to cup his own cheek. She had days of being lost in her head, thinking about their future and the babies future. “We don’t have to force it onto them. But they’re obviously going to be around Judaism. Between the holidays. Your family isn’t going to stop celebrating and I would never expect you to stop practicing it because I’m not.” She would bit that one in the butt right away. She never wanted Max to change who he was because of her. It would absolutely kill her if that were to happen. “We can just raise them with it, but then let them decide if they want to continue to practice it as they get older?” She suggested, she understood why he didn’t want to push it on him or their kids. “If they want to have a bar or bit mitzvah, that’s fine. If not, that’ll be fine too.” She shrugged, laughing at the thought of Winnie. “We’ll be righ next to each other, I’ll just reach over and pet her. She’ll be fine.” 

“Oh good, because I am not into that. I don’t want to feel like I’m getting raped, I wanna enjoy it. But think of the details and let me know. OR wake me up,” She said teasingly since he mentioned the robber would break in while she was sleeping. Sabrina nodded, pursing her lips together. “I mean, I’m not against it if it happens. I’m surprised you didn’t try to follow me in there tonight.” She joked. She let thumb drag against his cheek, and then over his lips. “Good, I don’t want you to beat the shit out of them. You can scare them, though. Unless they actually deserve it, then you can beat the shit out of them.” If someone actually tried to get in her pants, that would be a different story. She didn’t want some random stranger touching her. “Right. Almost forgot we did that as me as the boss. But yeah, I’ll even get a little secretary outfit to wear for you. A fake business call or a real one to make it more authentic. Let me know the next time Tony calls you. I’ll drop to my knees instantly.” Not like she didn’t normally drop to her knees. All he had to do was say one word, and she was happily on her knees, pulling his pants down. She always loved pleasing him, she was a giver at heart in and out of the bedroom. “You do know what I like. And how to make me happy.” She smirked as his eyes were glued to her fingers. She moved them slowly, and then added a third. She curled them inwards. “Do you like watching me as much as I love watching you jerk off?” She asked, and it wasn’t long before his finger joined hers. This was new, either she finger fucked herself, or he did it for her. They had never done it together before. But it just tugged at her, her arousal growing. “Do you wanna help make me cum?” She asked, her freehand had moved up to her breast and she twisted her nipple. Her fingers thrusted faster, pushing them deeper into her. “I’m so close, daddy.” She moaned as she hit her high. Her back arching as she came around their fingers. Sabrina pulled her fingers out of her, finding Max's lips. "You know, you should always clean up the messes that you help make." She teased.

"He actually said that? I'm gonna knock some sense into his head for her. Dragging her around that long isn't fair to her. I could never do you like that. I'll ask him what the problem is and we can work to get it in the right direction." Sarah was family in Max's eyes and he wanted her and George to be as happy as he and Sabrina were. "I think losing the baby made her care less about that and more about us and our feelings. Not so much about what her or the family want. She knows better than to say we can't get married. I would let her know so fast that she doesn't tell us what we can do. Our lives and our children's lives don't belong to her or anyone else." He smiled and cupped her face. "You really are special but you don't have to agree to that. I don't want my beliefs pushed on you or our kids. I love that you want to do that for me but I'm not sure we should push things on them or you. I want you or them to believe what you believe and if it's the same great but if it's not then I'll live with that." Softly he kissed her lips thinking how unselfish she was to want to do that for him and his family. "She'll fight me but I'll give her kisses to hush her till mama's back with her." Winnie had sensed from day one how needed she was and always lay by Sabrina even when she was sad and crying, Winnie would lick her face to cheer her up.

"Yes, I wasn't looking for a rape roleplay." He wasn't sure if she got off on that but that wasn't where his mind was. "More a seduction. I haven't really thought out all the details on it." He let out a chuckle as she mentioned the bathroom. "You keep being up fucking in the bathroom so I'm assuming that's something you want to do." He couldn't help but laugh as he mentioned Vegas. "No, I don't plan to beat the shit out of them.....just scare them a little bit is all. If you think that could get out of hand then we can forget that one. I'm not stressing you out again like before." He listened to her ideas and nodded his head. "Role reversal this time with me as the boss, now that could be fun. Like a real business call? Sure thing, kitten. I'm not scared and that would be hot. Ha, I knew chocolate would be in here and hell yeah. We can both roll in it and then lick it off each other. " He watched her eagerly suck his cum off of his fingers. "See I know what my girl likes and yes, you redeemed yourself from earlier. Showed daddy how good you can be and reminded him not to tease you till you get impatient." He did enjoy watching her touch herself. It had been one of the things he asked her to let he watch and it always turned him on. Earlier he was only upset because he told her not to cum and she did but now his eyes were glued to her fingers as they thrust inside of her. "You have no idea how hot that is." He slid his had downward and licked at her clit, sucking it as she finger fucked herself. Slowly he slipped a finger inside of her and began to follow her fingers rhythm as they both thrust into her.

[fnaffoxhound]

Welcome to Foxhound!

About the Blog

What is Foxhound?

Foxhound is the shortened version of “The Fox and The Hound” ship name for Mike Schmidt and Foxy the Pirate, alternatively called “Mioxy”. There are two different AUs / versions of Foxhound featured on this blog:

Mike Elizabeth Schmidt x Axel / Foxy

Taken from the Reborniverse / Parlourverse AUs by Rebornica and AvecPardon (@fivenightsatfreddysfanfiction). Mike E. is an annoyed grump with a heart of gold who survived the Bite of ‘87 but doesn't remember it. Axel is the world's saddest, soggiest cat who caused the Bite and feels guilty over hurting his best friend. Note: Mod Mangle has a lot of AUs about them, so expect to see them at some point as well.

Michael Schmidt x “Red” Rodrigo 

Taken from the Lucasverse AU by Mod Benny. Michael is keeping his head down to get through the work week, and is possibly depressed. Rodrigo is a washed-up theater kid, and is also depressed. Ship sometimes includes Leslie aka “Doll”, Michael's fiancee (the name for this specific ship is “Polyhound”).

Who are the mods?

Mod Mangle 🦊🎀 • She / Her • @ask-the-fox-guard

Mod Benny 👽🍋 • He / They • @fnaflucasverse

AU Masterlist

FAQ 👇 (please read!)

Mike Schmidt as in the movie / Michael Afton / etc.?

The Mike Schmidts featured on this blog have no connection to the canonical lore of the FNAF games or movie.

Isn’t Foxy Fritz / the 4th Child?

No, this is literally about the animatronic pirate fox (who is sometimes human). Not the child. Additionally, in both AUs we are using, the 4th Child is not Fritz, but Violet.

Will you be featuring other ships?

Aside from Polyhound (Michael, Doll, & Red) and sometimes Foxhound Yuri Edition (aka Violet and Faith (ghost possessing both Mikes)), we’re not planning on posting about other ships. Well, maybe a certain OC from Mod Benny will occasionally show up…

Will there be NSFW?

There may be occasional suggestive art and headcanons. Suggestive asks will be answered (depending on how explicit), but we won’t be doing anything outright NSFW. Please be respectful and try not go overboard with the suggestive asks. Thank you!

(Basically, if you send an explicit ask, we will not post it. But we might keep it for ourselves… ;])

[hadesknockedupintheunderworld]

Between Sonic and Tails, who do you think would end up confessing their feelings first?

Good question. Definitely depends upon the iteration and context, but for the most part (at least in my head) getting either of them to confess (and in some cases even ruminate on their feelings and admit to themselves the nature of them) is hard

Like, for example, I personally think that game!Sonic (and post sgw Archie Sonic and IDW Sonic) kind of take Tails' presence for granted in a way. To them, it will always be the two of them (Sonic and Tails). The ideal future is that they keep on hanging out and still fight side by side sometimes and that even if Sonic goes it alone he can always come back from his adventures to chill with Tails or crash at his place. In other words, in Sonic's fantasies of the future, things like getting married or raising families or anything like that are just kind of tacked on as something that will just kind of be true at best and ignored at worst. If he even considers a future where things are a bit different because Tails is together™ with someone, to him it's only natural that Tails would be in his life the same way and nothing would really change. And so to that end, even if Sonic DOES realize his own feelings, he probably wouldn't see any good reason to confess. It would make things more complicated, especially if Tails doesn't share those feelings, and he doesn't have to worry anyways because Tails will always prioritize the two of them and be at his side, right?

And then it's even worse for versions of Sonic more akin to, say, pre sgw Archie Sonic. This is because in addition to the already existing unwillingness to change things and the assumption that he doesn't ever have to worry about no longer being the center of Tails' world (or a major figure in it at least), there is some palpable internalized homophobia within that hedgehog with an added complexity. For Archie Sonic in particular, I think even if he realized that he wanted to even be with Tails forever in a strictly non brothers fashion, he would feel mixed feelings about that (perhaps that coming out about it would ruin things or make things weird, or that getting together with Tails at any point would deprive him of "normalcy", or that he'd pressured Tails into it, or even just weird or a bit creepy).

As for Tails, I actually think that most iterations of him have figured their feelings out by this point. In all honesty, there's only so long you can go on fixating on someone and admiring them, and structuring your life around them before you realize your "I want to be with them" isn't just about simply admiring them. It's just that Tails' main obstacle to me is the avoidance of ruining anything.

On one hand, there's Sonic's avoidance to being tied down. We've seen time and time again Sonic rejecting people who pursue him openly or looking uncomfortable with them. Archie Sonic in particular made it clear that this version of Sonic couldn't stand the idea of not being able to freely be himself or adventure. He couldn't stand the idea of having to tie himself down and taking on extra responsibilities and expectations simply because he's with someone. I can see Tails being afraid that by confessing, he could scare Sonic away. If he happened to confess and Sonic thought Tails meant to stifle him or Sonic felt uncomfortable by that open expression, wouldn't that risk their relationship? Even if Sonic wouldn't go so far as to drop him as a best friend (which he never would do that for the record), there's still real fear in making things weird or different between himself and Sonic.

And that feeds right into the other hand. On the other hand, Sonic probably doesn't see him that way, right? Though Sonic is special to him and Sonic also cares for him back, at best Sonic has never thought about it and never will, or he just wouldn't feel the same (in Tails' eyes). With Archie Tails in particular, even if Tails gets over his own interlized homophobia about it and recognizes his feelings for what they are, he probably feels that there's no way to be anything different than a brother to Sonic, and thus confessing would be a terrible move. If Tails confesses and Sonic doesn't feel the same, it also runs the risk of making things weird between them or (in Tails' eyes) ruining it.

All this to say that my general opinion is that as long as things stay exactly the way they are forever, even if they start spending even more time together, I find it hard to believe either of the two will opt into confessing on purpose

But, with that being said, a confession is not an impossibility. I don't think either of the two are immune to being put in a position where they finally confess (and no, with the state of things for them, simply saying "I love you" will not count as a confession). And if we barred situations where like. They're literally about to die or one can do anything they like without the other (or themselves) remembering the outcome, I actually can give you an answer

And honestly, if one of them had to confess eventually, I believe it would probably end up being Sonic.

Why? Well, out of the two, Tails actually sits back and thinks about his emotions more often than not. I think even before he figured out the exact nature of his feelings he knew he felt very strongly for Sonic. But, no matter which media you're touching upon, I feel as if Tails fits into that archetype of "person who has been in love with their best friend since literally forever, but knows their best friend will never feel the same". The longer Tails ruminates on these feelings, the stronger he feels them, the more he watches Sonic (especially as someone who cares about plenty of people other than him), the more time he spends with Sonic, the less incentivized he feels to actually confess. Especially if Sonic would never feel the same, the best Tails can hope for is that things stay the same between them and Sonic never replaces his role.

Or in short, Tails is so in his head about it at this point, it's very hard to convince him that confessing is ever a good idea or necessary.

But while Tails is more obviously attached to Sonic, Sonic is much less obviously attached to Tails and other people as a whole. With him being "free as the wind" and the kind of figure he is, he kind of benefits from having the persona of a guy who doesn't need his friends but (nevertheless) can be assisted by them. He probably seems cool for being so strong and independent while equally caring that people live. But this doesn't mean Sonic doesn't have attachments (far from it). Rather, for Sonic, his attachments to others seem to naturally grow. And the more time he spends with them, the more he grows used to their presence. And especially with someone like Tails, who has been around as his companion the longest, he doesn't sit around long enough to consider that Tails would ever leave his side. Once he grows used to that person, he doesn't have to recognize his attachment or even think about the nature of his own feelings because it is and always has been whatever it is. So, in other words, even if he becomes more and more reliant on the fact that Tails will always be around or that Tails will always assist him, he doesn't have to admit more than "This is what our best friendship is. This is what it's like"

All of this is to say that while my idea of present Tails would be trying to do anything in his power to stay with Sonic (as long as Sonic is willing of course), even if that means never confessing the exact nature of his feelings for the hedgehog, Sonic isn't already thinking about these things. This means that while Tails has very few pathways to confession, Sonic has plenty!...if you scare him well enough.

For example, Idw Sonic has been more clearly spending more time with Tails (even baseline just. Crashing at his place more often) after the metal virus arc. Couple this with post neo metal incident 2 electric boogaloo idw Sonic who just wants to have a break and live peacefully for a minute, this is a Sonic who has become scared enough to want to indulge in spending more time with Tails. I also think that post Sonic Prime Sonic is also a version of him who would start to spend more time with Tails than before after having already lost him and having to deal with the Tails shaped hole in his life once.

So, if you got a Sonic to the point where he'd fully accepted his feelings and he felt like confessing them would be necessary to secure the future he wants, then he'd confess. Honestly, the easiest way I'd see this going about would be a story where Tails is framed as leaving him to go do something or be somewhere else, away for Sonic, possibly indefinitely, or if Sonic actually has to spend enough time without Tails after initially telling himself his own feelings wouldn't matter so long as Tails is happy wherever he is. But, if it came down to confessing being something that might actually bring Sonic to his desired future (especially if Tails rejecting him is no different from prolonging the separation they already have if he says nothing), then I think he could work up the courage to do it.

And in the end...I think it has to be Sonic. Although I on occasion enjoy fantasizing about moments where Tails can't take it anymore and confesses, only for Sonic to realize his own feelings in the process, I think that Sonic would have to be the one who confesses his feelings/wishes for the future for Tails to even believe that his pipe dreams are a possibility. I think it's Sonic who would need to pull Tails out of his head, because the probability that Tails works up the courage to confess is more unlikely.

So...yeah. In my head, Sonic is driven to a point where he confesses and pulls Tails out of his head about it.

[raifuujin]

It's been more than 20 years and for some reason I feel that Gosho hasn't given Kaiao any development, how can more than 20 years pass and Aoko dynamics, relationship and feelings remain the same? At this point I feel like Gosho is just going to make them date because "they already liked each other" they remain in the same status quo

Hey, if we go by DC romance progress, they've been going too fast. We've already had suspicion of identity chapters, and that didn't happen until more than 400 chapters in DC. /j

Since heists have taken over any character development recently, I don't even know if Kaito and Aoko will even get any romantic progress. Maybe the actual identity confrontation will happen down the line, since that's thief drama, but atm, it really wouldn't surprise me if they only ask each other on a real date at the very end of the manga.

Like. I'm sure Gosho would love to make MK a love drama as well, but he writes MK so rarely, and usually as hype for something Kid related in other media. So the MK stories tend to be heavy on drama that can only take place at Kid heists. (To the point that the new chapters just. Use Kid as the plot device to show off a new character. Even Hakuba's never gotten so much 'look at this character being a detective' treatment in MK.)

-sighs- I just feel bad for MK as a series at this point. I like the characters, I like the general story idea, but. It's been going down a very steep hill with Gosho wanting things exciting, but not wanting any real progress in. Anything. But unlike old MK, the new stories aren't even nice standalone setpieces of story, they're... mundane. They could be high stakes, if you purely look at the scenarios on paper, but. We all know nothing's gonna happen to Kid. Nothing even happens to him when the actual bad guys show up, much less one-time antagonists.

We need actual character focus and development, not heist drama. Badly. Not even romance, though that'd be a nice change. Just any character expansion of our limited cast of characters. Gosho wants big, all the time, meaningless big stuff, when small would be so nice.

[joshuamj]

i've thought about this for a while now and never done it, but i'm considering trying to sell art prints... I don't have any income at the mo, so i hate spending any that i saved up when i last worked a job. And i would, yknow, get another job, but if i do i am Actually Going To Fail College, i know it. Was literally academically separated over the summer and had to appeal it... so yeah i know i cant handle an actual job while at school. So a little bit of passive money would be great!

idk many ways in which to do so, the only one im familiar with is Inprnt.. but this was on the mind because I was looking at my last post and thinking it'd make a good print..

(also can u tell ive been christmas shopping and lamenting over prices. And seeing cool things i want for myself, but not being able to get them cuz i gotta spend my money on gifts for others. can u tell.)